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THE 


MORAL INSTRUCTOR, 


AND 

GUIDE TO HAPPINESS: 


VUE WISDOM OF AGES CONDENSED. 

1 

’art 1 . Essays on the Diffusion of 
Knowledge and Moral Improve¬ 
ment, &c. 

Epitome of the Moral Precepts of 
the Bible. 

Abridgement of the Lives and Mo¬ 
ral Discourses of Confucius and 
Socrates, and Seneca’s Morals. 

Abridgement of the Law of Na¬ 
ture, and the Economy of Human 
Life. 


5. Abridgement of Penn’s Maxims, 
Paley’s Moral Philosophy, and 
Knigge’s Art of Conversing with 
Men. 

6. Selections from Franklin’s Works, 
comprising a Sketch of His Life, 
His Rules of Virtue, and of Cice¬ 
ro’s Discourse on Old Age, &e. 

7. Selections from Washington’s 
Farewell Address, Miscellaneous 
Articles and Poetry. 


DESIGNED FOR A NATIONAL MANUAL OF MORAL SCIENCE. 


-- 

BY JESSE TORREY, Junr. 


Human Happiness is founded upon Wisdom and Virtue. Seneca. 


THIRD EDITION, ENLARGED. 


CITY OF WASHINGTON: 


FEINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, by EDWARD DE KRAITT. 











Northern District of New York, ss. *^0? a. v 

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the tenth day of March, in the forty-third year of 
the Independence of the United States of America, A. D. 1819, JESSE TORREY, Jun 
of the said District, hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the rigbt whereof he , 
claims as author and proprietor in the words and figures following, to wit: 

*• The Moral Instructor, and Guide to Virtue and Happiness: In five Parts,— Parti. 
Essays on the general diffusion of Knowledge and Moral Improvement.—Part II. Livtts 
and Moral Precepts of the most eminent ancient Philosophers of China, Greece, and Rome. 
Part III. A System of Morality, founded on the Law of Nature.—Part IV. Summary of 
Moral Principles, from the works of eminent German and English Philosophers.—Part V. 
Miscellaneous articles, concerning erroneous National, Moral and Political customs: on the 
prospect of meliorating the condition of the human race, by universal Education, &c. 
With an Appendix, containing a constitution, ami form of subscription for the institution 
of free public Libraries, &e. Designed to be a welcome guest in domestic circles and se* 
rninaries of Education By Jesse Torrey, Jun. Physician. ‘ Vice shrinks from Instrut* 
tion, like Ghost from light.’” 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled “ An act for tke 
encouragement of learning by securing the copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the,au¬ 
thors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned.” And also t<i the 
act. entitled “ An act supplementary to an act, entitled “ An act tor the encouragement of 
learning by securing the copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the authors and proprietors 
of such copies during the times therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to 
the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints.” 

RICHI). R. LANSING, Clerk, 
of the Northern District of New York, i J 


RECOMMENDATIONS. 


From John Van Ness Yates, Esq. Secretary of the State of New York, and 
Superintendent of Common Schools, ex officio. 


DR. JESSE TORREY, JUN. 


DEAR SIR, 

I have perused, with much pleasure, the volume lately published by you, entitled *' The 
Moral Instructor and Guide to Virtue anti Happiness,” anti I have no hesitation in giving 
it my most decided and unqualified approbation. The Selections it contains are well 
adapted to promote the great purposes it has in view; and I think it ought to lie in the 
hands of ev-ry Parent, Guardian, and Instructor, as a manual which will essentially be¬ 
nefit the rising generation.—The original pieces in the work, are highly creditable to , 
your head and heart, and worthy of perusal and patronage. 

I sincerely wish you success in this work, and that every seminary of education and 
virtue may both be profited and delighted by your labors. 

I am, respectfully, 


Your most obedient servant. 


Albany, June 4, 1819. 


JOHN VAN NESS YATES. 


Extract of a letter from the Hon. John Adams, late President of the United 
States, dated Montezillo, March 13, 1820. 

“ I thank yon for your “ Moral Instructor.” I have read the table of Contents,- and 
turned over the leaves, and have found nothing but such excellent maxims of wisdom and 
virtue, which cannot be too plentifully scattered among the people, nor presented in too 
great variety of forms. The compilation and composition of this work must kaVe ; cost 
you much labor of research, and of thought, which merits well of the public.” 


Extract of a note from the Hon. Thomas Jefferson, late President of the 
United States, dated Monticello, Jan 5, 1822. 

rt I thank you, sir, for the copy of the second edition of your * Moral Instructor.’ I had 
read the first edition with great satisfaction, and encouraged its reading in my family.” 



TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES. 

I . 

The design of the following compendium, is more to 
disseminate useful instruction amongst all classes of so¬ 
ciety, than to gratify classic taste or curiosity. 

'f The author has long cherished a decided confidence, 
that if the community would appropriate as much wealth 
to the instruction to the rising generation, as is now 
devoted to the punishment of crimes and vice, the desir¬ 
ed object would be attained, and human misery avert¬ 
ed, to a much greater extent. 

But a small proportion of the people have the means 
to purchase, or leisure to study voluminous systems of 
Moral Philosophy. On the other hand, dogmatical sen¬ 
tentious precepts, unsupported by demonstration, are 
not generally convincing, nor adapted to human temper. 
Whenever men shall agree to make moral rectitude their 
inflexible rule of action, each individual must be per¬ 
suaded in his own mind, independently of the dictato¬ 
rial precepts of one another, that his welfare and happi¬ 
ness will be thereby promoted. 

The compiler has been, for many years, impressed 
with the utility of such a work as the one now offered* 
and has accordingly improved every means in his power, 
by reading, observation, and reflection, for accumulating 
materials. 

The candid reader who meets with several articles in 
this work, with which he has already been familiarised, 
will not be displeased, when he reflects, that nearly all 
the youth, and a large proportion of adult readers, will 
find it as new to them, and as useful as if it were an en¬ 
tire original work. If the sentiments are correct and 



IV 


valuable, and clearly expressed, it is of no importance 
whether they were first committed to paper yesterday, 
or three thousand years ago. 

It is but of little avail to the mass of mankind, that 
philosophers of different ages and nations, have exerted 
their talents in perfecting the science of moral wisdo^u, 
as long as no one will take the pains to collect ajid 
concentrate the best fruits of their labors into a conve* 
nient vehicle for universal distribution, upon the wide- 
spreading table of the printing press. 

One particular object of this work, is to inculcate the 
necessity and duty of general economy, and simplicity^ 
manners. It may he confidently presumed, that if the 
idolatrous and slavish sacrifices of property, to pride* 
fashion, custom, extravagance, and depraved appetite, 
were abolished, poverty, with its hideous train of woes, 
might be expelled from society, and general plenty, with 
its smiling train of blessings, substituted in their stead. 

Embracing these important purposes, it is respect¬ 
fully submitted to the good sense of the people of the 
United States, for their adoption as a National Manual 
of Morals in schools and families. 

The compiler does not delude himself with the vain 
hope that it will accomplish the moral reformation of 
the present hardened adult generations; but he does sin¬ 
cerely believe, that the universal dissemination of its 
impressive precepts among the tender susceptible rising 
generation, could not fail to produce a salutary influence 
upon the future morals of our country. 


THE MORAL INSTRUCTOR, 

AND 

GUIDE TO HAPPINESS. 


PART FIRST. 

ESSAYS ON THE DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE AND MORAL 
IMPROVEMENT, &c. 


CHAPTER 1. 

SECTION I. 

NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGES OF KNOWLEDGE. 

“ Man’s general ignorarfce, old as the flood, 

“ For ages on ages has steep’d him in blood.” 

1# KNOWLEDGE is essentially necessary to the well 
being and happiness of every member of the human family, 
whether male or female, rich or poor. To ignorance may 
be traced the origin of most of the vices, crimes, errors and 
follies, that distract and destroy mankind. It is the mother 
of misery—a mazy labyrinth of perpetual night. 

2. Besides the intellectual pleasure derived from the ac¬ 
quisition and possession of useful knowledge, the well-in¬ 
formed man (of whatever occupation) being acquainted with 
moral and physical causes and effects, has an eminent ad¬ 
vantage over the ignorant man, in the capacity of providing 
for his welfare. General instruction, therefore, is the har¬ 
binger of national virtue, prosperity and happiness. 

3. The public or private provision for elementary edu¬ 
cation in common schools, has, of late, become very general 
in the United States. But the education of youth should 
not cease with the expiration of their attendance on public 
schools. Legislators and parents indulge themselves in a 
pernicious mistake, if they suppose that the primary arts of 
spelling, reading, writing, grammar, and arithmetic/the prin- 







6 


Cipal branches taught in common schools, will qualify our 
youth for the various social, moral, and political duties of 
life. Those indispensable arts are the keys —but libraries 
are the chests of knowledge* 

4. Although it is an axiom, generally admitted, that in¬ 
terest and happiness are identified with the practice of vir¬ 
tue and moral rectitude, yet, so powerful is the influence of 
example and the habits of society, that much reading and, 
much reflection are generally requisite (and they sometimes 
fail) to produce a resolution to adopt the principle of virtue 
and moral rectitude as an inflexible rule of conduct. 

5. Much the greater proportion of our youth are dismissed 
from the primary schools, and arrive to maturity, with very 
little or no acquaintance with the precepts and wmrks of the 
most eminent moral teachers, whose names are preserved 
from oblivion, as Confucius, Socrates* Cicero, Seneca, Ba¬ 
con, Locke, Johnson, Pope, Addison, Burgh, Goldsmith, 
Priestly, Paley, Knigge, Penn, Franklin, Rush. 

6. The printing press is the main engine, and books are 
the rapid vehicles for the general distribution of instruction. 
The discovery of the art of printing, and of manufacturing 
paper, gives us a vast ascendency over our ancestors in the 
facility of propagating knowledge; yet, notwithstanding 
the immense difference between the cost of books within the 
last four hundred years, and the whole anterior space of 
time, but lew\ comparatively speaking, can sustain the ex¬ 
pense of private libraries. 

7. Most people would probably become readers, if fur¬ 
nished with suitable books at a proper time of life. It is 
only necessary to offer instruction to the voluntary accept¬ 
ance of youth, in a proper manner, to produce an ardent 
appetite for it. It will be found, by computing the leisure 
of every youth, at two hours daily, from the age of ten to 
twenty-one years, that it is sufficient for reading seven hun¬ 
dred volumes 12mo. of three lamd red: pages. 

8. The long preparatory period, of youth, designed by our 
beneficent Creator, for the acquirement of knowledge, and 
laying the foundation for a useful and happy life, to the 
greatest portion of mankind, is almost entirely lost* and 
often worse than lost, except as to the attainment of cor• 
poreal maturity. 

9. The countless hordes of savages, composing an im¬ 
mense majority of the human race, as well as millions of 


7 


people classed among civilized nations, maybe said to grow 
up and march successively through the journey of life, in 
a state of mental childhood. Hence it is no mystery that 
they remain perpetually in a state of delusion and depravity. 

10. Intellectual cultivation is the basis of virtue and hap¬ 
piness. As mental improvement advances, vice and crimes 
recede. That desirable happy era, when the spirit of peace 
and benevolence snail pervade all the nations which inhabit 
the earth; when national, personal, and mental slavery , shall 
be exterminated; when nations and individuals shall cease 
to hunt and destroy each other’s lives and property; when 
the science and implements of human preservation and fe¬ 
licity shall be substituted for those of slaughter and wo, 
will commence, precisely at the moment when the rays of 
useful knowledge, wisdom and virtue, shall have been ex¬ 
tended to the whole human family. 

11. By useful knowledge, I mean not only an acquaint¬ 
ance with valuable arts and sciences, but also an under¬ 
standing of our various moral and religious duties, in re* 
lation to our Creator, to our neighbour, and to ourselves. 

L2. By wisdom, I mean that kind of sagacity which in¬ 
fluences us to regulate our passions and conduct in confor¬ 
mity to the precepts of knowledge, reason and religion. 
Until an approach towards such a state of things is effected, 
the names of peace, liberty and security, on this earth, will 
differ but little from an ignis fatuus, either to monarchs or 
their vassals. 

13* At present, violence bears universal and imperial 
sway.; and ignorance is the magic spell which sustains its 
sceptre. Therefore, what more glorious achievement, what 
greater aggregate and ultimate good, can be produced to 
mankind,, by the application of the power of governments 
and the surplus wealth of individuals, than by reclaiming 
man from the chains of ignorance, vice, oppression and mi¬ 
sery, and thereby elevating poor degraded haman nature to 
that scale of dignity in the creation, to which it was evi¬ 
dently destined by the Supreme Parent of the Universe. 

14. In our own country, particularly, instruction ought to 
be universal. For virtue only can sustain and perpetuate 
our political organization. As every citizen, therefore, is- 
vitally interested in the universal dissemination of know¬ 
ledge and virtue, let all classes combine their influence and. 
means in promoting the general welfare. 




8 


15. In addition to the motives of patriotism and benevo¬ 
lence, the wealthier classes of society are interested in a 
pecuniary point of view, in the universal intellectual and 
moral improvement of youth. For as intemperance and in¬ 
dolence are the invariable and almost only causes of pau¬ 
perism, Dimes, voluntarily applied to the instruction of 
youth, will prevent the compulsory expenditure of as many 
Dollars in partially relieving the miseries of pauperism, and 
the premature diseases of self-immolated victims of vice. 

16. It is very seldom that men of intelligence, who have 
been educated to habits of virtue and industry, and who de¬ 
light to employ their leisure hours in the acquirement of 
useful knowledge, by reading or otherwise, will deliriously 
and idolatrously sacrifice their reputations, their estates 
and lives, their wives and children, in a word, their happi¬ 
ness, to the voracious, unmerciful, and barbarous god of in¬ 
temperance. 

17. It has been questioned whether our national consti¬ 
tution authorises the adoption of measures by Congress for 
the diffusion of knowledge and science. If our constitution 
does not now authorise measures which are likely to pro¬ 
duce the greatest possible benefit to the country, and secu¬ 
rity to its liberties, it ought, without delay, to be so amended 
that it should. 

18. Since the above paragraph was written, President 
Monroe has expressed a similar sentiment, in his message 
to Congress of December, 1817, as follows:—“ I think pro¬ 
per to suggest also, that it be recommended to the states to 
include in the amendment sought, [for authorising internal 
improvements,] a right in Congress to institute, likewise, 
seminaries of learning, for the all important purpose of dif¬ 
fusing knowledge among our fellow citizens throughout the 
United States.” 

19. Let American legislators, both national and sectional, 
perform their duty to their country and its posterity; and 
to mankind, by listening to the wise counsels of many illus¬ 
trious living sages, and pursue, without delay, the inesti¬ 
mable “ parting advice ” of George Washington, Benjamin 
Rush, Samuel Adams, and other departed friends and pa¬ 
trons of man; and establish public schools, and judiciously 
selected free circulating libraries, in every part of the Re¬ 
public. 

20. And above all, let virtue and useful industry constb 






9 


tute an essential branch of instruction in every school; so 
that our youth may be carefully taught the art of acting cor¬ 
rectly, as well as of speaking, reading, and writing correctly. 

21. Dr. Rush, in his Oration, “ On the Influence of Phy¬ 
sical causes upon the Moral Faculty ,” makes an earnest ap¬ 
peal in favor of universal knowledge:—“ Illustrious Coun¬ 
sellors and Senators of Pennsylvania!” he exclaims, “ I 
anticipate your candid reception of this feeble effort to in¬ 
crease the quantity of virtue in the republic. 

22. “ Nothing can be politically right, that is morally 
wrong; and no necessity can sanctify a law, that is contrary 
to equity. Virtue is the soul of the Republic. There is 
but one method of preventing crimes, and of rendering a 
republican form of government durable, and that is, by dis¬ 
seminating the seeds of virtue and knowledge, through every 
part of the state, by means of proper places and modes of 
education, and this can be done effectually only by the in¬ 
terference and aid of the Legislature. 

23. “ I am so deeply impressed with the truth of this opi¬ 
nion, that were this evening to be the last of my life, I would 
not only say to the asylum of my ancestors, and my beloved 
country, with the patriot of Venice, * Esto perpetua,* [Be 
thou pepetual] but I would add, as the last proof of mv af¬ 
fection for her, my parting advice to the guardians of her 
liberties, * to establish PUBLIC SCHOOLS in every part 
of the State.” 

24. “ Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, 

institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge, in pro¬ 
portion as the structure of a government gives force to pub¬ 
lic opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be en¬ 
lightened.” Washington . 

25. “ To secure the perpetuation of our Republican form 
of Government to future generations, let Divines and Phi¬ 
losophers, Statesmen and Patriots, unite their endeavors to 
renovate the age, by impressing the minds of the people with 
the importance of educating their little boys and girls.” 

S. Jidams. 

26. “ A Republican Government, without knowledge and 

virtue, is a body without a soul—a mass of corruption and 
putrefaction—food for worms.” J. Jidams. 

27. “ I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers 
if society, but the people themselves: and if we think them 
lot enlightened enough to exercise their control with a 



10 


wholesome discretion, the remedy is, not to take it from 
them, but to inform their discretion by education.” 

Jefferson. 

28. “ Without knowledge, the blessings of liberty cannot 

be fully enjoyed, or long preserved.” Madison. 

29. “ Ignorance is every where such an infallible instru¬ 

ment of despotism, that there can be no hope of continuing 
even our present forms of government, eiiher federal or ; 
state, much less that spirit of equal liberty and justice, in 
which they were founded, but by diffusing universally among 
the people that portion of instruction which is sufficient to 
teacn them their duties and their rights.” Barlow. 

SO. “And without going into the monitory history of the 
ancient world, in all its quarters, and at all its periods, that 
of the soil in which we live, and ot its occupants, indigenous 
and emigrant, teaches the awful lesson— that no nation is 
permitted to live in ignorance with impunity .” Jefferson. 

31. “ With knowledge and virtue the united efforts of ig¬ 
norance and tyranny may be defied.” 

Miller , late governor of North Carolina. 

32. " In a government where all may aspire, to the highest 
offices in the state, it is essential that education should be 
placed within the reach of all. Without intelligence, self- 
government, our dearest privilege, connot be exercised.” 

Nicholas, late governor of Virginia. 

S3. Clinton, late governor of NewYork, has'elegantly ex¬ 
pressed his sentiments; “That education is the guardian of 
liberty and the bulwark of morality. And that knowledge 
and virtue are, generally speaking, inseparable companions, 
and are, in the moral, what light and heat are in the natural 
world—the illuminating and vivifying principle,” 

34. “Knowledge distinguishes civilized from savage life. 

Its cultivation in youth promotes virtue, by creating habits of 
mental discipline; and by inculcating a sense of moral obliga¬ 
tion. Knowledge is, therefore, the best foundation of hap¬ 
piness.” Blair. 

35. The invention of the art of printing is an artificial 
moral sun; and therefore, requires the united pecuniary and 
jiersonal as well as intellectual power of the limited section . 
of the family of man who have been enlightened by it, to re¬ 
flect its genial rays progressively upon the eyes of an im¬ 
mense majority, yet veiled in mental darkness. 

56, “Then, (says Professor Waterhouse, alluding to the 



li 


art of printing) did knowledge raise weeping humanity from 
the dust, and with her blazing torch, point the way to happi¬ 
ness and peace.” 

37. Dr Darwin very properly, calls the “PRINTING 
PRESS the most useful of modern inventions; the capacious 
reservoir of human knowledge, whose branching streams 
diffuse sciences, arts and morality, through all nations and 
ages.” 

38. Let us suppose Confucius, Socrates and Seneca, were 
permitted to resume the possession of their former bodies 
and estates, and remain on the earth for five years; would 
they not be transported with ccstacy, on beholding a paper- 
mill and a printing press. 

39. And yet would they not weep with regret and won¬ 
der, to find how few of the inhabitants, even of civilized and 
apparently enlightened portions of the earth, are in posses¬ 
sion of the inestimable moral precepts which they had, with 
so much labor and solicitude, prepared and bequeathed to 
mankind? 

40. Seneca possessed immense wealth. Would he not 
seize the opportunity with avidity, and invite his two benevo¬ 
lent colleagues to share with him the happiness, of enlisting, 
with his treasures, every paper-mill, printing press, type-ma¬ 
ker and printer, that they could find, and devote the five 
years, to the propagation of their wisdom to the remotest 
regions of the Globe. 

41. “’Tis the prolific Press; whose tablet, fraught 
By graphic Genius with his painted thought. 

Flings forth by millions, the prodigious birth. 

And in a moment stocks the astonished earth.” 

Barlow’s Columbiad. 

— 

SECTION IL 

j NEW PLAN FOR THE UNIVERSAL DISSEMINATION OF KNOW¬ 
LEDGE. 

1. That ignorance is generally the radical source of vice 
and poverty, with their consequent train of complicated ca¬ 
lamities; and that intelligence generally produces results di¬ 
rectly the reverse, are truths no longer problematical. Facts 
have shown their claims to the consideration of the legis¬ 
lator and the moralist. It now only remains to ascertain 
the most expeditious, economical, and practical method, by 




which the universal diffusion of useful knowledge can be ac¬ 
complished. 

2. In the early period of my youth, I applied to an attorney 
at law, who resided near my father’s house, at New-Lebanon, 
N. Y. to borrow books; and he invited me to make as much 
use of his excellent library as I wished, observing, that he was 
pleased to see young persons attached to reading, and will¬ 
ing to encourage them in the improvement of their minds. 

I accepted the privilege with feelings of joy and gratitude, 
and improved it with assiduity, as far as my leisure permit-! 
ed, for several years. 

3. Having acquired an insatiable appetite for reading, im¬ 
mediately on the perusal of the first books that were put into; 
my hands, it may not be irrelevant to the present subject to 
mention those which more immediately contributed to that 
effect, presuming, that in general, like causes may produce 
like results. One of the first books that I recollect having 
read, was the Looking Glass for the Mind. Another was 
the Life and Essays of Dr. Franklin, which I read repeat¬ 
edly with peculiar delight. 

4. The other principal books that I perused with avi¬ 
dity and great satisfaction, previous to the age of fourteen; 
were, The Beauties of History, or Examples of Virtue and 
Vice , taken from real life, two volumes, by L. M. Stretch; 
Burton’s Lectures, Knox’s Essays, Goldsmith’s Essays, The 
Spectator , History of Sanford and Merton, Seneca’s Morals , 
Plutarch’s Lives, Rollin’s Ancient History. 

5. At the age of sixteen years, convinced of the inestima¬ 
ble benefits of reading useful books, I anxiously desired that 
they might be extended to the great mass of the human fa¬ 
mily, and endeavored to discover some effective plan for 
that purpose. Indigence, which, in most nations, involves 
the majority; appeared to present the greatest obstacle. 

6. Hence, the suggestion occurred, that governments, as¬ 

sociations, or wealthy individuals, might promote, if not ac¬ 
complish that object, by establishing in cities,towns, villages,; 
and parishes. Free Circulating Libraries, to be equally ac¬ 
cessible to all classes of the community, including, particu¬ 
larly the rising generation of both sexes, over ten or twelve] 
years of age. . yj flg: 

7. Deeply impressed with the importance of this mode oil' 11 
placing knowledge within reach of every member of society i 
whether rich or poor, and wishing to demonstrate the practi I 







13 


cability and utility of the project, by experiment, 1 commenc¬ 
ed a subscription of money and books, for the establishment of 
a free Juvenile Library, leaving the amount optional with 
the contributor. 

8. After calling on almost every family in the parish, dur¬ 
ing the winter evenings, in the years 1803 and 4, I finally 
succeeded in obtaining a considerable number of books, (some 
of which were lent,) and about twelve dollars in cash, with 
which I purchased as many volumes of books, in the city of 
Albany. The amount generally subscribed, (except for 
books,) was from twenty five to fifty cents. 

9. On the 12th of March, 1804, the library was opened, free 
for the equal use of every youth, of either sex, from twelve 
to twenty-one years of age, on signing the constitution; but 
th*-y generally subscribed from twelve and a half cents to one 
dollar. As there is seldom a youth in that district of country 
that has not been taught the art of reading, the acceptance 
of the privilege vras unanimous, and its effects evidently be¬ 
neficial. 

10. The establishment of public libraries in agricultural 
districts, is not generally so convenient, as in commercial 
and manufacturing towns and villages. But this circum¬ 
stance ought not to exclude the farming population from the 
benefits of such institutions. Wherever ten, twenty, or thir¬ 
ty families reside within a few miles of each other, well 
chosen libraries, formed by contributions of books or money, 
(even if they should amount to no more than twenty dollars,) 
would produce an important influence on the moral character 
of the rising and future generations. 

11. In the state of New York, the laws provide for the in¬ 
corporation of all library societies, possessing books to the 
value of thirty dollars, or more, on application to the town- 
clerk. The good effects of this regulation, have been very 
extensive in that state; and it is hoped that it will be adopted 
in every other state in the Union. 

12. Well selected libraries, it is believed, would form im¬ 
portant auxiliaries of public instruction and moral reforma¬ 
tion, in all our schools, manufactories, naval and military 
establishments, alms-houses, prisons, &c. &c. The utility of 
this method of disseminating knowledge and virtue, might be 
greatly extended, if governments, societies, or wealthy indi¬ 
viduals, were to publish large editions of the most useful 



14 


books, and furnish them to all free library companies at 
prime cost—which would be about half the usual price. 

13. I would here suggest a query, also, whether such libra¬ 
ries, placed in the care of post masters, or town-clerks in the 
United States, or of some other responsible citizens, would 
not suppl y a convenient medium for the promulgation of the 
laws of the United and individual States, public national do¬ 
cuments, and all kinds of political, agricultural, and scientific 
information, which ought to have a more permanent preser¬ 
vation than is practicable by newspapers, which are gener¬ 
ally of ephemeral and transitory existence. The laws and 
proceedings of governments ought to be placed permanent¬ 
ly within reach of every citizen, at the public expense. 

14. Having been at the city of Philadelphia at the time the 
“ Pennsylvania Society for Promoting Public Economy,” was 
instituted, I communicated, by request, a sketch of the above 
plan, in a letter dated the 4th June, 1817, to Roberts Vaux, 
Esq. who was the chairman of a committee, appointed by the 
society, on public schools. 

15. He informed me that the committee considered the 
idea new and valuable, and had instructed him to introduce 
it in his report of a system of public education, which it was 
contemplated to adopt. He said they considered the plan 
particularly adapted for- the benefit of numerous appren¬ 
tices, who are prevented, during several years of their ser¬ 
vice, from attending pubiic schools, by their occupations. 




SECTION III. 

A SERIOUS ADDRESS TO THE RISING GENERATION OE THE 
UNITED STATES. 

Favored Youth, 

1. Contemplate calmly and attentively the sacred legacy 
which must soon be committed to your charge, in trust for 
your successors-—and eventually for the whole human race! 
You constitute the only insulated Ararat, on which the olive 
branch of peace, and the “ glad tidings” of freedom and hap¬ 
piness, can be deposited and preserved to a groaning world 
drowned in tears !! 

2. Prove yourselves, then, deserving of the exalted office 
which Providence has assigned you. To do this, it is indis¬ 
pensable that you cultivate your understandings, and store 
them with the treasures of knowledge, philosophy and prin¬ 
ciples of virtue and reli&ion. Where these abide, tyranny 





15 


disappears as darkness in presence of sun beams. Consider, 
also, that these will preserve you from the still more odious 
and destructive despotism of ignorance and vice. 

3. Wisdom and virtue are the offspring of knowledge. 
" Take fast hold of instruction; let her not go; keep her, for 
she is thy life.” " Human happiness is founded upon wisdom 
and virtue.” It is an immutable and universal rule, inter¬ 
woven with your existence, that happiness is the natural con¬ 
sequence of virtue; and infamy and remorse, of vice. 

4. Therefore exert yourselves without delay, to secure the 
means of enlightening your understandings with instruction, 
during the season alloted to that purpose by your Creator. 
Form yourselves into societies in your respective neighbor¬ 
hoods, and establish free libraries, by means of subscriptions, 
and contributions of books. 

5. Iam not inclined to advise you to restrain yourselves 
from a rational indulgence in innocent amusements, but fail 
not , if you prefer genuine happiness to misery and repent¬ 
ance, to devote the most of your evenings and leisure hours 
to mental improvement and reading. Read the life of the 
celebrated Franklin, and imitate his virtues and avoid his 
errors. But beware of the syren lure of NOVELS, PLAYS, 
and ROMANCES. 

6. Let your choice of books be directed chiefly to works on 
morals, natural philosophy, natural history, geography and 
astronomy, history and biography, chemistry and physiology. 

7. And, here, after having endeavored to demonstrate to 
you the advantages of knowledge and mental improvement, I 
should consider it a neglect of duty, to omit cautioning you 
against excessive reading and study; which are but little less 
pernicious to health, than other kinds of intemperance. 

8. Never more than eight hours, daily, should be, habitually, 
devoted to study, or any inactive employment; nor less than 
three in active exercise, either at labor, riding, walking, or 
active, but moderate recreation. It would undoubtedly pro¬ 
mote the literary progress, as well as the health of students 
of academies, colleges, &c. to require them to labor two or 
three hours daily, either on a farm, in a garden, or mechanical 
work shop. 

9. Such a discipline ought to be introduced, not only for 
the purpose of preserving health and invigorating the consti¬ 
tution, but also of qualifying students, destined for whatever 
profession, for some kind of active industry, if their inclina¬ 
tion or condition should, in the course ot lile, require it.. 



16 


10. It is to you, ye young sons and daughters of Columbia, 
ye who are yet innocent, who are yet free from the snares of 
wrong habits , that I direct my hopes of a radical reformation 
of morals. 

Accept these counsels of your sincere friend. Obey them 
'with fidelity, and peace, contentment, good will, and glad¬ 
ness, shall be the companions of your lives. 

CHAPTER 2. 

SECTION I. 

PUBLIC CALAMITIES PRODUCED BY INTEMPERANCE. 

1. THE following Report of the Moral Society of Port¬ 
land, is a correct miniature of the blackest cloud, probably, 
that now desolates and threatens ultimate destruction to the 
only political family on the Globe, which assumes the pre¬ 
eminent rank of being enlightened, virtuous and free. 

2. “ From a report of an association in Portland, called 
the Moral Society, it appears that out of 85 persons subject 
to the public charity in that place, 71 had become so from 
their intemperance; and that out of 118 supplied at their own 
houses by the town, more than half are of that description. 
The expenses of the town in its charities exceed 6000 dollars, 
and more than two thirds of that sum went to support such 
persons as were made poor by their vices. Of consequence, 
7000 persons are taxed 4000 dollars for the vices of their 
neighbors. 

S. “From these well known facts the report proceeds to 
calculate almost half a million of dollars paid in the same 
way in this state only, and if in the same proportion in the 
United States, the whole amount must be millions. We all 
inquire what can be done. We cannot take away personal 
liberty. We cannot prohibit spirituous liquors. We cannot 
punish persons not convicted of any breach of the laws. We 
cannot distinguish in the business of life, because the rich are 
sometimes as blame-worthy as their less wealthy neighbors. 

4. “ We can say that when any persons are committed to 
the public charity, they shall be properly guarded against 
temptations. That their habits shall be considered, and all 
restraints which can consist with health, shall be laid. We 
might hope that some laws of education and life might obtain. 
But as no love of fame, no great talents, or public trust, can 







17 


be said to have been sufficient to prevent men and nations 
from the guilt and the shame of intemperance, we hatfe a 
right in the administration of charity, to regard not only the 
health and hopes of the sufferers, but the safety and the eco¬ 
nomy of civil society.” 

5. One of the principal funnels to the insatiable vortex 
of intemperance, is the generally prevailing popular error, 
that the temperate use of ardent spirits is innocent and even 
healthful and necessary. 

6. It has been asserted by some of our legislators, that 
whiskey is an important article of manufacture; that it adds 
to the wealth of this nation, and ought to be encouraged by 
our*government. The eye that cannot perceive that the re¬ 
verse is the fact, must be both morally and politically blind. 
For a community to permit or encourage the importation or 
manufacture of distilled spirits, is precisely the same policy 
as it would be to institute premiums for the construction of 
daggers to stab its own vitals with. 

7. It is gratifying and encouraging to see the several agri¬ 
cultural societies, commence their labors with a bold attack 
upon this noxious deep-rooted treed. 

Extract from the anniversary address of J. Le Ray de 
Chaupiont, Esq. President of the Jefferson county Agricultu¬ 
ral Society: 

8. “ Gentlemen of the Society: 

“I do not know a more laudable end our society could 
have in view than that of preventing the use of ardent spirits. 
I wish I could without tiring the patience of my audience, re¬ 
present here all their pernicious effects upon the human 
mind and body. Poverty and ruin, crimes and infamy, dis¬ 
eases and death, would be found the leading features in this 
woful detail. 

9. “ Every reflecting man is sensible of the infinite advan¬ 
tages which would result in favor of humanity and of mo¬ 
rality, if some efficient plan were devised for preventing the 
too general use of spirituous liquors. To those who believe, 
that they increase the strength, and fortify the body against 
fatigue and hardship, I would oppose the opinion of many ob¬ 
serving and experienced men, particularly the celebrated Ge¬ 
neral Moreau, who asserts, that from long experience in his 
army, he has found, that those soldiers who abstained entirely 
from the use of ardent spirits, and used altogether water, 
beer, or such simple drinks, were not only more healthy, but 


much stronger, could endure greater fatigue, were much 
more moral; more obedient to orders; and in a word much 
better soldiers. 

10. “If, then, spirituous liquors are really so injurious to 
the health and morals of men, what reason can be alleged for 
continuing the use of them, and who will be their advocate?” 

11. It is surprising that the Government of our Republic, 
should annoy the army with a more pitiless enemy than any 
human foe of the civilized world, by constituting whiskey an 
article of daily distribution to the soldiers. 

12. The following extract from the address delivered re¬ 
cently at the meeting for organizing an agricultural society 
in the county of Saratoga, by Doct. Billy J. Clark, contains j 
several moral and political truths, which deserve the serious 
consideration of every American citizen: 

13. “For us as Americans, who boast the republican sim¬ 
plicity of our habits and our manners, there is, in the cata¬ 
logue of our expenses, a number of items that require the i 
bold and decisive use of the amputating knife: Amongst 1 
these, are the extravagant and almost daily use of many lux¬ 
uries, the epidemic mania of following the fashions of the day, : 
through all their various changes, and those too, so plausibly 
imposed on us, as the latest importations from the nurseries 
and hot-beds of monarchy and dissipation. 

14. “The occasional and habitual use of ardent spirits, the 
unnecessary use of which costs the inhabitants of this coun¬ 
ty several thousand dollars in a year, imperiously calls for 
immediate retrenchment. The train of evils that grow out 
of its liabitual use, are too well known to require a descrip¬ 
tion from me at this time. 

15. “ The laborer’s plea of necessity, the plea of the man 
of business and of pleasure, of innocence, in its temperate 
indulgence, are equally futile, and unfounded in truth. 

16. “Let us then reflect on the dire consequences that 
have resulted to individuals, to families, and to communities, 
and those of us at least, who can boast exemption from the 
iron grasp of habitual tyranny, from the organization of this ; 
society, firmly resolve to abandon its use, not only from a re- j 
gard to our own individual benefit, but from a consideration 
of the advantages that our children will derive from our ex¬ 
ample.” 

17. The following extract of a report of one of the Massa¬ 
chusetts Societies tor the suppression of intemperance and 




19 


other vice?, is inserted here, in the" hope that their honorable 
example may be imitated as far as it may circulate, by every 
agricultural and moral society, and farmer, and manufac¬ 
turer. 

18. “To abolish the custom of giving stated potations of 
ardent spirits to hired laborers, which has been a prolific 
source of intemperate habits, the members of this association 
have agreed not to furnish to the men they employ, a daily 
allowance of spirit; nor to give it, except in cases of particu¬ 
lar necessity. We have the pleasure to state, that no difficul¬ 
ty, to our knowledge, has arisen on this account in procuring 
faithful laborers. Some, who are not members of the society 
have adopted the same rule; and there is good reason to be¬ 
lieve, that the pernicious custom is gradually wearing away, 
and will eventually become entirely obsolete.” 

19. Extract from Darwin’s Zoonomia, Sec. 30. “ When 
the expediency of laying a further tax on the distillation of 
spirituous liquors from grain was canvassed before the House 
of Commons some years ago, it was said of the distillers, with 
great truth , ‘ they take the BREAD from the people and con¬ 
vert it into POISOJVr Yet is this manufactory of disease 
permitted to continue, as appears by its paying into the trea¬ 
sury above, £900,000,* near a million of money annually.— 
And thus, under the names of rum, brandy, gin, whiskey, 
usquebaugh, wine, cider, beer, and porter, alcohol is become 
the bane of the Christian world, as opium of the Mahometan, 

20. “ I shall conclude this section on the diseases of the 
liver, induced by spirituous liquors, with the well known sto¬ 
ry of Prometheus, which seems indeed to have been invented 
by physicians in those ancient times, when all things were 
clothed in hieroglyphic, or fable. Prometheus was painted as 
stealing fire from lleaven, which might well represent the 
inflammable spirit, produced by fermentation; which may be 
said to animate or enliven the man of clay: whence the con¬ 
quests of Bacchus, as well as the temporary mirth aud noise 
of his devotees. But the after punishment of those who 
steal this accursed fire, is a vulture gnawing the liver; and 
well allegorises the poor inebriate, lingering for years under 
painful hepatic [liver] diseases.” 

21. But it is almost as useless to expostulate with veterans 
in the ranks of Bacchus, as with those who are confident that 


About 4,000,000 dollars. 





29 


1 


they are under the power of witchcraft. This fact is well il¬ 
lustrated by the reply of a boozy tippler to a Friend, who was 
representing to him the terrible consequences of intemper¬ 
ance, “ 1 have no doubt, said he, but that all you say is true, 
but you might as well sing psalms to a dead horse as to talk 
to me.” 

22. Yet let us not forget that these unfortunate victims of 
their own weakness and imprudence are still men, and claim 
our sympathy and commiseration for their want of discretion. 
And if warnings and entreaties will not prevail, let us resort 
to more efficacious means for their relief, as well as for the 
protection of the common interest against the effects of their 
conduct. Reproachful denunciations, however, are not only 
useless, but injurious and uncharitable. 

23. It is lamentable, as well as astonishing, that so few of 
our citizens have granted this subject its lawful weight either 
in the scales of policy, morality, physics, or religion. It has 
been too long treated with levity and scorn. 

24. Is there an individual who is not now affected, more or 
less, in some shape or other, from the immense deficit in the 
national wealth, occasioned by the appropriation of 20,000,000 
dollars annually, during the last twenty years, to a threefold 
w orse purpose than annihilation? Twice we have bravely re¬ 
sisted and spurned political despotism, and at length we have 
prostrated our necks under the sceptre of king Jncohol, 

25. With an incredible infatuation, we have sacrificed the 
golden presents of Ceres on the hissing copper altars of crazy 
Bacchus. Were I allowed the privilege of obliterating the 
two greatest scourges of mankind, I would select the art of 
distilling food, and the art of war. 

26. 1 am not disposed to attach any degree of moral turpi¬ 
tude, to manufacturers or sellers of ardent spirits; but it does 
seem to me, that if they would revolve and scrutinize the sub¬ 
ject in its real genuine character, they would not hesitate to 
renounce an employment which involves in its consequences, 
the propagation of so much human misery and wretchedness. 

27. A merchant of Virginia, by the name of Sholfield, list¬ 
ened to his conscience, and burnt all his distilled liquors pub¬ 
licly on the summit of a mountain. Another in Delaware, 
beat in the heads of his rum casks. A respectable French 
gentleman having purchased an estate at Buffalo (N Y.) 0 n 
which was a distilling establishment, demolished it immediate¬ 
ly on taking possession, sayipg he “ had done one good deed” 


21 


28. And it would undoubtedly be a national benefit if ninc- 

tenths of the wholesale and retail merchants and distillers in 
America, would adopt “ this great and universal troth, that 
with a pure heart one is never unhappy”* and secure to 
themselves the applause of their own consciences, and the ad¬ 
miration and gratitude of mankind, by imitating these illus¬ 
trious examples of heroism in the cause of human happiness. 
Let them consider another equally great and universal in¬ 
verse truth, that without a pure heart one is never happy , 
with all the lucre that avarice can grasp. 

29. But the nation must take this matter in hand, or noth¬ 
ing decisive can be done. The structure of society is menaced 
with ruin! Let the question be fairly stated:—it is, whether 
Reason or Rum shall predominate? Or, 

Reason, Virtue , the~] C Intemperance, Vice , Po- 

Lives, Health , Wealth , I .> verty and Misery , 

Morals and Happiness , j j Crimes and Infamy , 

of the people! J ^Disease and Death ! ! 

SO. Dr. Rush says, “ No man ever became suddenly a 
drunkard. It is by gradually accustoming the taste and sto¬ 
mach to ardent spirits, in the forms of grog and toddy, that 
men have learned to love them in their more destructive 
mixtures, and in their simple state. Under the impression 
of this truth, were it possible for me to speak with a voice 
so loud as to be heard from the river St. Croix, to the re¬ 
motest shores of the Mississippi, l would say, Friends and 
Fellow Citizens, avoid the use of those two seducing liquors, 
whether they be made with brandy, rum, gin, Jamaica spi¬ 
rits, whiskey, or what is called cherry bounce.” 

31. “ It is highly probable not less than 4,000 people die 
annually from the use of ardent spirits, in the United States. 
Should they continue to exert their deadly influence upon 
our population, where will their evils terminate ? The loss 
of 4,000 American citizens by the yellow fever in a single 
year, awakened general sympathy and terror, and called forth 
all the strength and ingenuity of the laws to prevent its re¬ 
currence. 

32. “Why is not the same zeal manifested in protecting our 
citizens from the more general and consuming ravages ol 
distilled spirits ? Let good men of every class unite and be- 


* Carnot. 


22 


siege the general and state governments with petitions ta 
limit the number of taverns; to impose heavy duties upon 
ardent spirits,” &c. 

S3. Another writer who has given a lively picture of the 
devastations of distilled liquors, says, “ let men who wish 
well to their country, unite in petitions to government, to 
impose still heavier duties upon imported spirits, and our 
own distillers; and to regulate taverns and retailers of spirits; 
and secure the property of habitual drundards, for the bene¬ 
fit of their families.” 

34. There has been “ much speaking,” much writing, much 
printing, and much preaching on this subject, and but little 
benefit seems to result from the whole. It is time to try a 
little doing. This will accomplish more than talking. 


SECTION II. 

PHENOMENON OF EXTRACTING THE GREATEST GOOD FROM THE 
WORST EVIL. 

1. As ignorance and moral corruption are the worst evils, 
and knowledge and moral improvement the greatest bless¬ 
ings to a state, I have propounded a project for the advance¬ 
ment of the latter, and the subversion of the former, by im¬ 
posing heavy duties upon the habit of drinking spirituous li¬ 
quors, and devoting the revenue to the encouragement of in¬ 
stitutions of science and humanity; whence a double effect 
will revert against the most terrible adversaries of human fe¬ 
licity. 

2. In concordance with this purpose, I have prepared the 
following form of a memorial, and I do most ardently hope it 
may be transcribed, and presented for signature, in every 
house occupied by human inhabitants in the United States. 
All philanthropists are respectfully invited to co-operate in 
this exceedingly necessary work. Let us not shrink from the 
task, on account of its magnitude, and the fear of its imprac¬ 
ticability. And if we even fail to accomplish all that we 
ivould, there is still a self satisfaction, and must be some uti - j 
lity in doing all that we can, 

*3. [« Memorial of the inhabitants of -, to the Con¬ 
gress or Legislature of -, praying that laws 

may be enacted for the suppression of the unnecessary use 
of spirituous liquors, and for the general diffusion of 
knowledge. 






23 


“Whereas the subscribers view with deep concern, the 
alarming and increasing extent of the moral, political, and 
physical calamities produced by the vast consumption of 
spirituous liquors in our country. The reality of the evil is 
so conspicuous and palpable, that it is unnecessary to deli¬ 
neate its specific features. 

4. The abstract principles of liberty, and the relative rights 
of man, authorize and demand legislative interposition. The 
citizen who wantonly destroys his property, his health, his 
mental faculties, by drinking spirituous liquors, and thereby 
forces himself, or a helpless family, upon the public bounty, 
commits a trespass on the rights of the community. 

5. We consider it the duty of government to adopt measures 
for preventing such aggressions, by taxation and universal 
knowledge, no less than for the security and recovery of or¬ 
dinary debts, or for the protection of the estates of our citi¬ 
zens from the depredations of domestic or foreign plunder¬ 
ers and invaders, by prisons and military fortifications. 

5. The great moral and political truth, that ignorance is 
the principal source of crimes and vice, and consequently of 
poverty and misery, and that the general diffusion of know¬ 
ledge among the rising generation, is the most effectual anti¬ 
dote to these evils; is now so well established by facts as 
well as theory, that but little need be said to enlightened dis¬ 
cerning men,in its support. 

7. In a republic, ignorance ought to be universally extir¬ 
pated, as a thistle from a garden: every youth, without ex¬ 
ception, ought to be qualified for the duties of an intelligent 
and virtuous citizen, not only by early elementary education, 
but also by the knowledge of morality, natural philosophy, 
agriculture, political economy, history, &c. 

8. Moral justice and political prudence require that spirit¬ 
uous liquors should be held accountable for repairing the mis¬ 
chiefs which they produce. Prompted by these consider¬ 
ations, therefore, your memorialists pray that heavy duties 
may be imposed on the manufacture or sale of all domestic 
or foreign spirituous liquors, and that the avails may be ap¬ 
propriated to aiding the establishment of tree schools, free 
libraries, and institutions for the maintenance, instruction, 
and employment of persons who, by their own intemperance* 
or that of their husbands or fathers, become incapable of sup¬ 
porting themselves. 

9. That laws may be enacted for placing the property of 





24 


habitual drunkards in the care of trustees for the benefit of 
their families; to be restored again whenever such mentally 
diseased persons shall have recovered their reason and dis¬ 
cretion; and for restricting licenses for retailing distilled 
spirits by drams, exclusively to such inns as are considered 
requisite for the entertainment of travellers.] 

10. It is the more indispensable to obtain the sentiments 
of the people at large, on this momentous question, in the 
manner here proposed, on account of an erroneous prejudice j 
indulged by some law-makers, that legislative restrictions ! 
upon the manufacture, sale, and consumption of spirituous j 
liquors, would violate the civil rights of the people, and ex¬ 
cite disaffection and rebellion. With respect to the former j 
objection, the fact is precisely the reverse. 

11. The citizen who squanders his property, or his time 
and healfh in dissipation, and, consequently, exposes him¬ 
self or a family to suffer for the necessaries of life, unless 
relieved by his neighbors or the public, violates the civil 
rights of, and his own moral and political obligations to, so¬ 
ciety. And there is no doubt that taxes on spirits will, ge- I 
nerally, be cheerfully paid by the consumer, when he is as- i 
sured that the revenue is to be applied to the education of 
his children, or, perhaps, ultimately, to his own support. 

12. The probability is, that a more formidable resistance J 
will spring from importers, manufacturers, and venders of 
ardent spirits, than from the consumers. But it must be a 
very unwise and unsound policy that permits the general 
good to be sacrificed to individual gain. 

13. Let the question, therefore, be fairly submitted to the ; 
people at large, who are the legitimate sovereigns of the 
land. The case demands the concurrent perseverance of 
all who possess the least sympathy for the sufferings and 
woes of their fellow men; and the very sufferers are not so 
indifferent as has been generally supposed. Many have ad¬ 
dressed their supreme Parent with supplications to rescue : 
and protect them from the fascinating charm and twining 
gripe with which that cunning serpent Alcohol inveigles its 


prey. 


14. And they are not wholly averse to coercive means of 
relief. Several have sought their emancipation in oaths of I 
abstinence for a given term. Some nave offered premiums 
for a remedy to the habit of drinking; and one individual of 
this description declared to the writer of these essays, that 


I 



25 


he <e wished government would impose a taw upon whiskey 
of five dollars a gallon , and then he should stop drinking it.” 

15. So that the business at length resolves itself iihto these 
great moral and political problems— Whether the gene¬ 
ral GOOD SHALL BE SACRIFICED TO INDIVIDUAL GAIN?- 

Whether distilled spirits ought and shall not be 

'HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR ITS DEPREDATIONS ON THE SOLID 
CAPITAL STOCK OF WEALTH IN OUR COUNTRY? Whether 

both imported and domestic spirits shall not be forthwith 
taxed to an amount sufficient to provide for the support and 
instruction of its unhappy victims? 

SECTION III. 

THE HABITUAL TEMPERATE USE OF SPIRITUOUS LIQUORS, 

A VIOLATION OF MORAL PURITY AND RELIGIOUS DUTY. 

1. So far as it is in our power to understand the de¬ 
signs and laws of our Creator, for the regulation of our 
conduct, it is both our duty and interest to yield perfect com¬ 
pliance. The preservation of health and life is.unquestion¬ 
ably one of our most palpable and explicit duties. Every 
-act, therefore, which impairs our health and diminishes the 
period of our lives, is a violation of *the express command 
•of God. 

2. I shall endeavor to demonstrate, by physiological facts, 
'that both these effects are produced, more or less, by the 
habitual application of distilled spirits to the stomach, in 
whatever quantity. All our food, whether vegetable or ani¬ 
mal, is originally derived from the vegetable kingdom. The 
materials from which vegetables receive their nutriment, 
generally exist in an oxided state. Thus, water contains 
nearly seven eighths of its weight of oxygen; carbonic acid 
nearly three fourths; and all decaying vegetable and animal 
matter is found highly saturated with it. 

3. The great process of vegetation appears to consist in 
■decomposing the various substances which supply the rudi¬ 
ments of its food, and in expelling the excess of oxygen, 
with which they are always combined. The first product 
of vegetation is sugar, which contains 8 parts hydrogen, 
28 carbon, and 64 of oxygen, and being the crudest and most 
abundant article of food that exists, is probably designed 
for the support of the graminivorous races of animals, as the 





various grasses, including the sugar cane, yield more of it 
than any other plants. 

4. The second stage towards the perfectability of the nu¬ 
tritive principle, is that of gum or mucilage, which contains 
only halfits quantity of oxygen; 14 parts in a hundred less 
than sugar. Fecula or starch is a fraction finer, and is the 
product of those seeds which constitute the principal and 
probably the most appropriate food for men. Sugar is found 
in the most common juice or sap of plants and trees, while 
gum is confined chiefly to the bark, root, or heart, and fecula 
and oil, to the seeds and nuts. 

5. Now, in order to obtain alcohol (or whiskey,) from any 
of the seeds used for bread, it is necessary that they should 
be subjected to the recontaimnation of oxygen, so as to re¬ 
duce them back to their crude saccharine state. Then the 
vinous fermentation, imparting still more oxygen, must be 
applied and continued until those once nutritive milky ma¬ 
terials have become sensibly acid or sour. From this loath¬ 
some leaven of depravity, disease and death, the alembic, 
with the aid of the furnace, disgorges a liquid fire, which con¬ 
sumes the health, happiness and lives of thousands of infatu¬ 
ated men. 

6. The literal chemical term for this fluid would be the 
oxide of nutriment; and it is in the state of oxides that most 
poisons exist; being indebted for their activity to oxygen; as 
the oxides of arsenic, copper, antimony, lead, silver, quicksil¬ 
ver, &c< Composed of very inflammable materials, in a disen¬ 
gaged state, and mingled with more than one third of its 
weight of oxygen, the common vehicle of fire, it commences 
a kind of smothered combustion instantaneously on its re¬ 
ception into the stomach; corrodes the organs of digestion, 
excites an unnatural heat and violent circulation of the blood; 
attended with delirium, and succeeded by a loss of strength, 
proportioned to the excess of excitement produced by the ir¬ 
ritating agent Several other poisons produce similar effects. 

7. It is an infallible axiom in the physical organization of 
man, that every excitement of his vital powers beyond the 
point to which his Creator has adapted him, which is the uni¬ 
form effect of alcohol, diminishes his capacity for repeating 
like motions from like means. Hence it may be safely in¬ 
ferred, that every drain of spirituous liquors of any descrip¬ 
tion , is a check upon the capital stock of strength and life , 
and hastens the approach of the hour of dissolution, hi pro¬ 
portion to the indulgence. 



27 


8. Let the habitual dram drinker, who is or may be the 
head of a family, reflect, at the same time, that he runs the 
awful hazard of transmiting the most horrible torturing here¬ 
ditary distempers to his defenceless progeny, forage to come. 
Each dram increases the appetite for another, and the neces¬ 
sity of an increased quantity, to produce an equal effect, mul¬ 
tiplies in a progressive ratio. Thus it follows, unavoidably, 
that the habitual temperate use of ardent spirits is a pernici¬ 
ous and vicious practice. 

9. Besides its consumption of vital power, it will be found 
an unjustifiable and immoral habit in another point of view. 
It is a wanton waste of property, which ought to be preserved 
for useful purposes, even by those who possess it, in ever so 
great profusion. Whoever swallows two gills of distilled 
spirits daily, destroys 20 bushels of rye a year; for the want of 
which many of his own posterity may eventually starve. 

10. In this way, it has been estimated by a late writer^ that 
the people of the United States, destroy thirty millions dollars 
annually. Considering this, and the many other useless and 
superfluous modesof diminishing thecommon stock of nation¬ 
al wealth, there is no reason to be surprised to hear the pre¬ 
sent universal re-echo of “ hard times” “dull times” “scarci¬ 
ty of money” “sales by execution“difficulty of collecting 
debts,” “ insolvencies ” “pauperism ,” cj’c. cjt'c. 


SECTION IV. 


SPEECH OF THE LITTLE TURTLE, AN INDIAN CHIEF. 

1. The following specimen of Indian wisdom and pathe¬ 
tic eloquence, was addressed to a committee appointed by 
the Society of Friends, “ For Promoting the Improvement 
and Civilization of the Indian Natives,” at Baltimore, in 
1802. It presents a striking mirror to the contemplation 
of their white brethren. The example of the red chiefs of 
the forest, and ihe black chiefs of Hayti, in excluding “ the 
poison of the moral world ” from their people, deserves appro¬ 
bation and imitation, 

2. “ Brothers and Friends, —When our forefathers first 
met on this island, your red brethren were very numerous. 
But since the introduction amongst us of what you call spirit¬ 
uous liquors, and what we think may be justly called poison, 
our numbers are greatly diminished. It has destroyed a 
great part of y&aj\v.etl..brethren. 





28 


3. “My Brothers and Friends ,—We plainly perceive, that 
you see the very evil which destroys your red brethren; it is 
not an evil of our own making; we nave not placed it amongst 
ourselves; it is an evil placed amongst us by the white peo¬ 
ple; we look to them to remove it out of our country. We tell 
them,—brethren, fetch us useful tilings; bring goods that will 
clothe us, our women and our children, and not this evil li¬ 
quor that destroys our reason, that destroys our health, that 
destroys our lives. But all we can say on this subject is of 
no service, nor gives relief to your red brethren. 

4. (l My Brothers and Friends ,—I rejoice to find that you 
agree in opinion with us, and express an anxiety to be, if pos¬ 
sible, of service to us in removing this great evil out of our 
country; an evil which has had so much room in it, and has 
destroyed so many of our lives, that it causes our young men 
To say, * we had better be at war with the white people; this 
liquor which they introduce into our country, is more to be 
feared than the gun and the tomahawk. There are more of 
«s dead since the treaty of Greenville, than we lost by the 
six years’ war before. It is all owing to the introduction of 
this liquor amongst us.’ 

5. “ Brothers ,—When our youn" men havebeen outhunting-, 
and are returning home loaded with skins and furs, on their 
way, if it happens that they come along where some of this 
whiskey is deposited, the white man who sells it, tells them 
to take a little drink; some of them will say no, I do not want 
it; they go on till they come to another house, where they find 
more of the same kind of drink; it is there offered again; they 
refuse; and again the third time; but finally, the fourth or 
fifth time, one accepts of it, and takes a drink, and getting 
one, he wants another; and then a third and fourth, till his 
senses have left him, 

6. “ After his reason comes back again to him, when he gets 
up and finds where he is, he asks for his peltry; the answer 
is, ‘you have drank them;’ where is my gun? « it is gone; 
where is my blanket? ‘ it is gone;’ where is my shirt? ‘ you 
have sold it for whiskey ! 1’ Now, Brothers, figure to your¬ 
selves what condition this man must be in. He has a family 
at home, a wife and children who stand in need of the profits 
of his hunting, What must be their wants, when he himself 
is even without a shirt ?” 




29 


CHAPTER 8. 

SECTION I. 

j. DESULTORY OBSERVATIONS ON MORAL REFORMATION AND NA- 
|| '■ TIONAL ECONOMY. 

I 1. To attack ancient and favorite habits and prejudices, is 
not a very encouraging or agreeable undertaking. While 

t error is venerated for its antiquity, truth is discarded for its 
i novelty. But there is great consolation in the consciousness 
of having done our best to benefit our fellow men, even if our 
i| good offices are not kindly received, or duly appreciated. 

2. “Let it be remembered,” says the author of the Friend 
r of Peace, in his reasons for believing that efforts tor the aboli- 
5 tion of war will not be in vain, “ that the charge of a chimeri - 
i cal project,” or “ Utopian scheme,” has been uniformly made 

I I against the first efforts for the abolition of any popular cus- 
!| tom; yet many such attempts have succeeded, to the astonish- 
[I ment and joy of those who once regarded them as fit subjects 
i of ridicule.” 

3. In a letter of Dr. Bush, to George Clymer, Esq “ on the 
amusements and punishments proper for schools,” he says, 
“ 1 know how apt mankind are to brand every proposition for 
innovation, as visionary and Utopian; but good men should 
not be discouraged by such epithets, from their attempts to 
combat vice and error.” 

4. After noticing many of the most valuable discoveries 
and improvements for meliorating the condition of man, 
which have been denounced as Utopian projects, he concludes 
his letter, “ with an anecdote of a minister in London, who, 
after employing a long sermon, in controverting what he 
supposed to be an heretical opinion, concluded it with the 
following words : 1 tell you, I tell you, my brethren, I tell you 
again, that an old error is bidter than a new truth.” 

5. “We ought not to shrink from the investigation of truth, 
however unpopular, nor conceal it, whatever the profession 
of it may cost. Though exertions of this sort are sometimes 
imputed to unworthy motives, and disinterested attempts to 
serve the best interests of humanity, are frequently rewarded 
with insult and reproach, we ought to reflect that this is the 
treatment which the advocates of truth have met with in al¬ 
most every age.”* 

* Gov. Miller’s Message to the Legislature of North Carolina, in 1815. 

# 3 




30 


6. A9 it is our design to promote the prosperity of society 
in the aggregate, it is hoped that individuals, whose occupa¬ 
tions depend on those popular follies which we shall endea¬ 
vor to exterminate, will not be offended at the course which 
a sense of duty impels us to pursue. “ It will be impossible 
to do much good without some persons accounting themselves 
injured by what you do. You will unavoidably serve some 
interests to which others are inimical.”* 

7. We cannot subscribe to the doctrine of Goldsmith and 
Franklin, that luxury and fanciful fashions are beneficial, 
upon afgeneral scale, because they multiply employment for 
the laboring classes of society. The rational wants of man* 
kind are sufficiently numerous to employ the industry and 
ingenuity of all who are able and willing to labor. 

8. To scrutinize and determine the propriety or impro¬ 
priety of ideas and habits acquired from precept or exam¬ 
ple in early life, (when their correctness is not called in 
question,) we need the faculty of divesting ourselves from 
the influence of previous impressions, and of viewing things 
with which we have been long familiarised, as though they 
were newly presented to our senses. 

9. Regardless of the shafts of wit or resentment, or the 
imputation of eccentricity, we shall endeavor to exhibit a 
faithful chart of the mistakes and eccentricities of society. 

10. The most universal, mischievous, expensive, and in¬ 
excusable customs of the present age of luxury and extra¬ 
vagance, are those of adopting sugar, tea and coffee, ardent 
spirits and tobacco, as articles of daily consumption. These 
insatiable, but fashionable leeches to the public wealth, and 
ranker worms to health and life, ought to be exterminated, 
if it were for no other reason than their enormous expense, 
but still more for their deleterious effects. The mischief 
of coffee and tea is doubled by the hot water in which they J 
are drank. Coffee, though a useful medicine, if drank con¬ 
stantly, will at length induce a decay of health and hectic 
fever.f 

11. Tea possesses an acrid astringent quality, peculiar 
to most leaves and exterior bark of trees, and corrodes and 
paralyzes the nerves. How shall we account for this uni¬ 
versal infatuation? Is nature so partial and niggardly, that 

* Essays to do good. 

f ?ce Dr Willich’s Art of preserving Health and prolonging life. 



31 


she has denied the American continent a single product fit 
for an infusion at our tables? Is it fashion, pride, depraved 
appetite or reason, that induces almost all the inhabitants of 
America to drink China tea and West India coffee, in pre¬ 
ference to milk, or infusions of parched rye, barley, or even 
pure water? 

12. We have late accounts from China, that in the course 
of six months American ships alone deposited in Canton 
the enormous sum cf five millions of dollars! Deluded Ame¬ 
ricans! Boasters of patriotism, liberty, virtue and indepen¬ 
dence! Will you remain politically and intellectually blind, 
until your last silver dollar is shipped to China fora pound 
of dried leaves of a bush; aniLyour last bushel of wheat to 
the West Indies for 14 pounds of essence of cane stalks, 
to counteract the roughness and gnawing effect of those 
leaves upon the tongue and stomach? 

13. What avails the heroism, the sacrifice of blood and 
treasure, and the indescribable sufferings of your fathers in 
resisting British compulsion, while you voluntarily bestow 
ten fold moee tribute upon foreign nations than a monarch 
would demand? 

14. “ When navigation is employed only for transporting 
necessary provisions from one country, where they abound, 
to another where they are wanting; when by this it prevents 
famines, which were so frequent and so fatal before it was 
invented and became so common; we cannot help consider¬ 
ing it as one of those arts which contribute most to the hap¬ 
piness of mankind. 

15. “ But when it is employed to transport things of no uti¬ 
lity, or articles merely of luxury, it is then uncertain whe¬ 
ther the advantages resulting from it are sufficient to coun¬ 
terbalance the misfortunes it occasions, by exposing the lives 
of so many individuals upon the vast ocean. And when it 
is used to plunder vessels and transport slaves, it is evident¬ 
ly only the dreadful means of increasing those calamities 
which affiict human nature. 

16. “ One is astonished to think on the number of vessels 
and men who are daily exposed in going to bring tea from 

*' China, coffee from Arabia, and sugar and tobacco from Ame¬ 
rica; all commodities which our ancestors lived very well 
without. The sugar trade employs nearly a thousand vessels, 
and that of tobacco almost the same number. 

17. “ With regard to the utility of tobacco, little can be 


32 


said; and, with regard to sugar, hotv much more meritorious 
would it be to sacrifice the momentary pleasure which we re¬ 
ceive from drinking it once or twice a day in our tea, than 
to encourage the numberless cruelties that are continually 
exercised in order to procure it us?”* 

18^How is our country to be supplied with those imagina¬ 
ry necessaries of life, (which, however, are converted into 
real ones by habit, ) when it becomes as populous as China? 
Where shall we find the requisite quantity of silver to pur¬ 
chase tea for three hundred millions of people, and pay for 
its transportation from the opposite side of the globert 

19. The increasing habit of chewing, smoking and snuffing 
tobacco, is too mischievous a trespasser on the public health 
and wealth, to be excused from an examination at the bar of 
reason. We shall not refuse tobacco the credit of being 
sometimes medical, when used temperately, though an ac¬ 
knowledged poison. 

20. While it relieves some diseases, it aggravates others; 
and is both unnecessary and pernicious to persons in health, 
especially to youth. Chewing tobacco is almost uniformly in¬ 
jurious. Constantly exciting a discharge from the salivary 
glands, it exhausts the body of one of its most important flu¬ 
ids; produces obstinate chronic diseases; weakens the or¬ 
gans of digestion,.and shortens the term of vital excitability 
and life. 

21. Young persons ought to be prevented from contracting 
a habit, which is so very reprehensible, both for its waste of 
vital power and property. The same may be said of smoking 
tobacco, except that it is more injurious, because commonly 
practised in greater excess, and in the form of segars, is 
more expansive. Snuffing powdered tobacco, when habitual, 
is disgusting, like both the other modes 6f using it, and in¬ 
jures the whole nervous system, as well as the sense of smell¬ 
ing. 


SECTION. II. 

DESULTORY OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION;-FOREIGN GOODS;— 

CAUSES AND REMEDY OF PAUPERISM;-NOVEL READING;- 

WAR. 

1. We shall next commence an attack on a variety of cus- 
* Franklin 

f We go to fetch earth from China, as if we had none; stuffs, as if we 
■were without stuffs; a small herb to infuse in water, as if our climate did 
not afford any simples.— Voltaire. 




33 


toms, originating in mistaken fancy, and belonging to the 
empire of fashion. It is doubtless a rational conjecture, that 
the annual expenditure of society for superfluities and trifling 
habits, is as great as for its reasonable necessities. This is 
a violation of our obligations of duty both to ourselves and to 
succeeding generations. 

2. In the wanton dissipation of property, we not only an-* 
nihijate the amount of its present specific value, but also its 
multiplying power, for perhaps an infinite space of time. Are 
not the most affluent men, then, inexcusable, in robbing their 
posterity in anticipation, by sacrificing the property in their 
possession, in vain amusements and fashions? 

3. Immense sums are continually wasted by almost all 
classes of both sexes, in superfluities of dress. It will be 
conceded that the various fluctuating modes and fashions 
of our attire are adopted with a view to attract and interest 
the eyes, and attention of others, rather than for our own 
personal convenience or comfort. If we were all to adhere 
uniformly to a simple, convenient, and permanent mode 
of dress, we should soon all be contented. 

4. The greatest mischief, probably, which results from 
frequent and expensive changes in the fashion of our cos¬ 
tume, is to be found in the unconquerable desire of people 
of but little or no property to exhibit (especially when ab¬ 
sent from home) a similar appearance to their wealthier 
neighbors. But it is unnecessary to particularize, and per¬ 
haps in vain to say any thing on this subject. 

5. I wish it were possible to construct a panorama of 
fashion, at which all our youth might gaze at once. It would 
include New York and London, and Paris as the head quar¬ 
ters. The Tailors, Milliners, Hatters, Bootmakers and 
Barbers of Paris might be seen, once or twice every season, 
in front of the Jong train of the deluded votaries of fashion, 
contriving a new angle to the collar, or an addition to the 
padding of a coat; a new wrinkle in a bonnet, and a new 
tuck to a gown; a new hat-brim or crown; a new boot top 
worn by some famous general; and a new cut to the hair. 
See. Sec. &c &c. 

6. The gentry, fops, and belles of London, may be seen 
tlirowing off their coats, bonnets and gowns, hats, boots 
and hair, just in the rear of those of Paris. Those of 
New York may be seen trudging along all in a huddlctand 
confusion, two or three months in the r$ar, according as 


34 


the wind blows; while, by the time the country boys and 
girls fall into the ranks, the commanders and command- 
resses at Paris have commenced a new campaign upon the 
property and folly of their dupes. 

7. Veil'd in a simple robe, that best attire. 

Beyond the pomp of dress; for loveliness 
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 

But is, when unadorn’d, adorn’d the most. 

Thomson . 

8. It is a great duty which parents owe their children, 
to restrict the gratification of their fancy and passions to | 
rational limits. We shall omit to particularize the super- 
fluities of female apparel; if desirable, there will be no diHi- i 
culty in finding much room for retrenchment. It would 
be criminal, however, to neglect this opportunity of con¬ 
demning, without reservation, the odious, disgusting, sacri¬ 
legious, and suicidal practice ot deforming the natural per¬ 
fection of the human fabric with CORSETS and STAYS. I 

9. Incalculable sums are uselessly expended for the or¬ 
namental appearance of our dwelling houses, churches, 
tomb-stones, carriages, equipage for horses, and domestic 
furniture. 

10. The wealth which has been vainly, if not wickedly, 
squandered in the magnificence of meeting houses and their 
lofty steeples, would be sufficient for the establishment of 
perpetual free schools, and free libraries for the instruc¬ 
tion of all the poor children in the United States. And 
'which would best advance the cause of virtue and happi¬ 
ness, and promote the glory of God? Let a reverse ex¬ 
periment solve this problem. 

11. Who can contemplate, without painful regret, the 

vast quantity of silver and labor which are thrown away 
never to be recovered, in order to display a few white, 
shining spots, on our carriages, harnesses, saddles and bri¬ 
dles? The superfluities of house furniture are numerous, 
and generally so conspicuous that it is only necessary to 
invite reflection on their impropriety. The gilding and or¬ 
namental work of looking-glasses and picture frames, books, 
chairs, &c. are expensive offerings to those idols. Fancy 
and Fashion. «j 

12. “ The poets who are ever apt to be seduced by ap¬ 
pearances, and do not consider themselves bound to be wiser 
than politicians and men of business, have been loud in the 


35 


praise of luxury; aiul the rich have not been backward in 
adopting principles, that exalt their ostentation into a virtue, 
and their self-gratification into beneficence. 

“ This prejudice, however, must vanish, as the increasing 
knowledge of political economy begins to reveal the real 
sources of wealth, the means of production, and the effect of 
consumption. Vanity may take pride in idle expense, but 
will ever be held in no less contempt by the wise, on account 
of its pernicious effects, than it has been all along for the mo¬ 
tives by which it is actuated. 

13. “These conclusions of theory have been confirmed by 
experience. Misery is the inseparable companion of luxury. 
The man of wealth and ostentation squanders upon costly 
trinkets, sumptuous repasts, magnificent mansions, dogs, 
horses, &c. a portion of value, which, vested in productive 
occupation, would enable a multitude of willing laborers, 
whom Ins extravagance now consigns to idleness and misery, 
to provide, themselves with warm clothing, nourishing food, 
and household conveniences. The gold buckles of the rich 
man leaves the poor one without shoes to his feet; and the 
laborer will want a shirt to his back, while his rich neighbour 
glitters in velvet and embroidery.”* 

14. The whole country is drained every spring and autumn, 
of a large portion of its cash and most valuable productions, 
to pay for foreign commodities; a great proportion of which 
might be dispensed with, or manufactured among ourselves. 

15. An unbridled hankering after something far fetched 
and dear bought , gay to the eye and pleasing to the tongue, is 
equally ruinous to a nation as to a private family. The na¬ 
tion or family tiiat buys more than it sells, that exchanges ar¬ 
ticles of solid value for articles of fancy, that imports rather 
than manufacture, and more than it exports, must eventually 
suffer severe embarrassment from deficiency of money and 
the common stock of wealth. 

16. The following extract from Memoirs of the Life of Ben¬ 
jamin Lay, written by Roberts Vaux, are prophetically illus¬ 
trative of this subject. 

Mr. Vaux describes the labors of Lay as one of the earliest 
and principal projectors of the Abolition of the Slave Trade 
and Slavery, and of the substitution of State Prisons for the 
Gallows; and thus introduces his sentiments on the great poli¬ 
tical error of sending away “ good things” for evil things:— 

# Say's Political Economy. 




36 


17,. "With the same enlightened zeal, he pointed out the 
pernicious consequences which would result from the intro¬ 
duction of foreign spirits into this country. He declared that 
the general introduction of them would corrupt and degrade 
any people, and that there was danger, if they could be easily 
and cheaply procured, of their becoming the habitual beverage 
of the inhabitants. 

18. “He introduces the subject in considering the trade 
■which at that day was extensively carried on with the West 
Indies;and says,* We send away ourexcellent provisions and 
other good things, to purchase such filthy stuff, which tends to 
the corruption of mankind, and they send us some of their 
worst slaves, when they cannot rule them themselves, along 
with their rum to complete the tragedy; that is to say, to 
destroy the people in Pennsylvania, and ruin the country.’ ** 

19. The advice of Governor Galusha, in his late farewell 
speech to the Legislature of Vermont, is excellent, and ap¬ 
propriate in this place:—“ The only safe remedy against em¬ 
barrassment or poverty, is a retrenchmen t of family expenses, 
and lessening the consumption of articles of foreign growth 
and manufacture. Much may be done by encouraging home 
manufactures, by legislative provisions; bat the most power¬ 
ful of all is that of example. 

20. “Let but one influential citizen,from each town in this ! 
State, return from this Legislature to his constituents, with a 
rigid determination to abandon the unnecessary use of foreign j; 
-articles, and, while he enjoys all the real comforts and actual i 
conveniences of life, reject every thing that is superfluous; ji 
his fellow citizens would soon emulate his example, and ex- h 
hibitan improved state of society. 

21. “ General information is indispensably necessary to the 

preservation of a free republican government; but this cannot ii 
be retained, if the great body of the people, through want jfji 
economy, indulge their propensities in the use of superfluities, i 
and become poor and unable to educate their children. The i 
patronage of the wealthy, will never be indiscriminately ex- t 
tended to the children of the whole community. Even that 
source will diminish where extravagance prevails.” i 

22. Citizens of the American Republic ! if i possessed the f 
eloquence of Demosthenes, I would address you in your cities, i 
and your villages, with my voice instead of my quill; I would I 
convince .you that your enemy, the conqueror of all nations t 
e\cept your own, instead of preparing to march against you, |i 
has already entered your doors, and is receiving your self-be < 
fraying caresses, instead of manly resistance* 






37 


[ , # 

23. I would persuade you to rise en masse, from your slum 

ber, erect the banners of ECONOMY and PLENTY, and ex 
terminate, without quarter, the devouring traitors Luxury , 
Superfluity, and Fashion; l would persuade you to practise, 
voluntarily, the virtues which Lycurgus enforced by the de¬ 
crees of power; and which made the Lacedemonians the hap¬ 
piest people that history acquaints us with. 

24. He suppressed luxury and extravagance; he excluded 
superfluous and useless arts, and prevented the introduction 
of foreign merchandise; he discouraged avarice, and yet com¬ 
pelled the most perfect economy and simplicity in the con¬ 
struction of houses, furniture, &c. 

25. Among the causes of poverty, besides ignorance and 
vice, indolence and intemperance, the want of steady em¬ 
ployment to all who are able and willing to labor, is one 
which has not received the consideration of legislators and 

: moralists that it deserves. A great proportion of crimes might 
be traced to this cause. Robbery or forgery, is the alterna- 
' five frequently preferred, by persons of weak moral princi¬ 
ples, to starvation, or the humiliation of beggary. 

26. It is easier to prevent poverty and crimes, by instruc¬ 
tion and employment, than to relieve and suppress them by 
charity and punishments. There ought to be a public agri¬ 
cultural and manufacturing institution, in every county, 
where poor people who are capable of digging potatoes, turn- 
a wheel, or working a loom, or of performing any kind of 
mechanical or other labor, may be employed, and suitably 
rewarded, whenever application shall be made. Schools and 
moral libraries ought to form a department in all such insti¬ 
tutions. 

2 7, The expenditure of such enormous sums of money as 
are continually dissipated in play houses, balls, novel read¬ 
ing, and other idle amusements, is totally unjustifiable; even 
if health and virtue were not at the same time impaired. It 
is surprising that people of refined taste, should be willing to 
breathe the vitiated air of crowded theatres and circusses. 

28. The act of injuring one’s own mind or health, is a 
vice; and therefore, it is the duty of parents and instructors, 
to prevent youth, peremptorily, from contracting the allur¬ 
ing habit of reading novels; which, besides destroying the 
health, by incessant night-reading, fits the mind for a world 
,cf fiction and romance, instead of a world of realities, and 
unpairs the relish for plain, solid instruction. 

4 




38 


29. If youth could be prevailed on, first to taste the saluta¬ 
ry sweets of biography, history, travels, morality, natural 
philosophy, and geography, they would ever after, with rare 
exceptions, view a novel witfi indifference, if not with dis¬ 
gust. 

30. The consummation of human folly and madness is to 
be found in the beastly custom of nominally civilized as well 
as savage nations, to settle their differences, through the me¬ 
dium of iron cannon, muskets, swords, bayonets, balls, and 
leaden bullets; fire and brimstone, salt-petre and charcoal; 
and human blood , the final product of the whole. This me¬ 
thod of obtaining justice or injustice, incurs an incalculable 
sacrifice of wealth and morals, as well as of life. 

31. National military establishments swallow up a vast 
proportion of the revenues of a country, even in time of 
peace. Is there no alternative? If not, then let man cease 
to boast his moral superiority to tygers and dogs. O ye mad 
nations! retrieve your abused divine legacy, reason! Com¬ 
mence your retreat from the horrid game of folly, blood and 
death, simultaneously. 

32. Dismantle all your war ships, frigates, &c., and sink 
in the ocean, or destroy, every engine or instrument of hu¬ 
man destruction. Dismiss your war servants, and abolish 
military schools. Institute a perpetual Congress of dele¬ 
gates, from each nation respectively, to which all national 
disputes, not amicably arranged by agents of the parties, 
shall be referred for final decision. 



PART SECOND. 

EPITOME OF THE MORAL PRECEPTS OF THE BIBLE. 


CHAPTER I. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT. 

1. Even as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow 
wickedness, reap the same. 

2. Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to 
dwell together in unity ! 

3. The Lord is good to all: and his tender mercies are over 
all his works. The eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou givest 
them their meat in due season. Thou openest thine hand, and 
satisfiest the desire of every living thing. 

4. Whocovereth the heaven with clouds, who preparet'h 
rain for the earth, who maketh grass to grow upon the moun¬ 
tains. 

5. Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that 
getteth understanding. For the merchandise of it is better 
than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine 
gold. She is more precious than rubies: and all the things 
thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. 

6. Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand 
riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay 
hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her. 

7. Receive my instruction, and not silver: and knowledge 
! rather than choice gold: for wisdom is better than rubies; 

and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared 
to it. Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: 
and with all thy getting get understanding. Take fast hold 
of instruction; let her not go: keep her; for she is thy life. 

8. Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when 
it is in the power ot thine hand to do it. Say not unto thy 
neighbor, go, and come again, and to-morrow 1 will give, 
when thou hast it by thee. 






40 


9. Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be 
wise; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her 
meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest. 
How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise 
out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little 
folding of the hands to sleep: So shall thy poverty come as 
one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man. He be- 
cometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand: but the hand of 
the diligent maketh rich. He that walketh uprightly walk- 
eth surely: but he that perverteth his ways shall be known. 
Tne lip ©f truth shall be established for ever: but a lying 
tongue is but for a moment. 

10. A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words 
stir up anger. Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty 
spirit before a fall. He that is slow to anger is better than 
the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a 
city. The discretion of a man deferreth his anger; and it is 
Ids glory to pass over a transgression. A good name is rather 
to be chosen than great riches. A prudent man foreseeth 
the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are 
punished. 

11. Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoso¬ 
ever is deceived thereby is not wise. Be not among wine- 
bibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh; for the drunkard and 
the glutton shall come to poverty; and drowsiness shall 
clothe a man with rags. Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? 
who hath contentions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds 
without cause? who hath redness of eyes? 

12. They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek 
mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, 
when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth itself 
aright. At the last it bitetli like a serpent, and stingeth like 
an adder. 

13. Who can say, 1 have made my heart clean, I am pure 
from my sin? Say not, 1 will do so to him as he hath done 
to me: 1 will render to the man according to his work. 

14. I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard 
of the man void of understanding; and lo, it was all grown 
over with thorns, and nettles covered the face thereof, and the 
stone wall thereof w^as broken. Then I saw', and considered 
it well: I looked upon it and received instruction. 

15. Where no w ood is, there the fire goeth out: so where 
there is no tale bearer, the strife ceaseth; 



4i 


10. Remove far from me vanity anti lies: give me neither 
poverty nor riches: feed me with food convenient for me. 

1 7. Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far 
above rubies. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh will¬ 
ingly with her hands. She is like the merchants* ships; she 
bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet 
night, andgiveth meat to her household, and a portion to her 
maidens. 

18. She layeth her hand to the spindle, and her hands hold 
the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she 
reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She maketh fine linen 
and selleth it; she openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her 
tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways 
of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her 
children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and 
he praiseth her. 

19. The sleep of a laboring man is sweet, w hether he eat¬ 
eth little or much. 

20. And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke 
many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, 
and their spears into priming hooks: nation shall not lift up 
sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. 

21. But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it can¬ 
not rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no 
peace, saith my God, to the wicked. 

22. Is it such a fast that 1 have chosen? a day for a man to 
afflict his soul? is it to bow down his head as a bullrush, and to 
spread sackcloth and ashes under him? wilt thou call this a 
fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord? 

23. Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the 
bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let 
the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? 

24. Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou 
bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou see- 
est the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thy¬ 
self from thine own flesh? 

25. Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow my¬ 
self before the high God? shall I come before him with burnt 
offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleas¬ 
ed with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of 
oil? Shall 1 give my first born for my transgression, the fruit 
of my body for the sin of my soul? 

2ti. He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what 
* 4 





42 


doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love 
mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God? 


CHAPTER 2. 

EXTRACTS FROM THE WISDOM OF JESUS, THE SON OF SIRACH. 

1. My son, help thy father in his age, and grieve him not 
as long as he liveth. And if his understanding fail, have pa¬ 
tience with him, and despise him not when thou art in thy 
full strength. 

2. Add not more trouble to an heart that is vexed, and de¬ 
fer not to give to him that is in need. Be not as a lion in 
thy house, nor frantic among thy servants. Sweet language 
will multiply friends, and a fair speaking tongue will increase 
kind greetings. 

3. Do no evil, so shall no harm come unto thee. Be not 
slogr^to visit the sick: for that shall make thee to be beloved. 
Reproach not a man that turneth from sin, but remember that 
we are all worthy of punishment. 

4. When a rich man speaketh, every man holdeth his 
tongue; and look what he saith, they extol it to the clouds: but 
if the poor man speak, they say, what fellow is this? and if 
he stumble, they will help to overthrow him. 

5. Blessed is he whose conscience has not condemned him. 
My son hast thou sinned? do so no more, but ask pardon for 
thy former sins. Flee from sin as from the face of a serpent: 
for if thou comest too near it, it will bite thee: the teeth there¬ 
of are as the teeth of a lion, slaying the souls of men. 

6. Be faithful unto thy neighbor in his poverty, that thou 
mayest rejoice in his prosperity: abide stedfast unto him in 
the time of his trouble, that thou mayest be heir with him in 
his heritage: for a mean estate is not always to be contemned; 
nor the rich that is foolish to be had in admiration. 

7. If thou hast gathered nothing in thy youth, how canst 
thou find any thing in thine age? 

8. Lend to thy neighbor in time of his need, and pay thou 
thy neighbor again in due season. Keep thy word faithfully 
with him, and thou siialt always find the thing that is neces¬ 
sary for thee. Many, when a thing was lent them, reckoned 
it to be found, and put them to trouble that helped them. Till 
he hath received he will kiss a man’s hand: and for his neigh¬ 
bor’s money he will speak submissly: but when he should 




43 

repay he will prolong the time, and return words of grief, 
and complain of the time. 

9. Many therefore have refused to lend for other men’s ill 
dealing, fearing to be defrauded. Yet have patience with 
a man in poor estate, and delay not to show him mercy. For- 
get not the friendship of thy surety for he hath given his life 
for thee. 

CHAPTER 3. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT. 

SECTION I. 

INSTRUCTIONS OF JESUS CHRIST. 

1. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righ¬ 
teousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: 
for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: 
for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for 
they shall be called the children of God. 

2. Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old 
time, thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto 
the Lord thine oaths: But I say unto you, swear not at all; 
neither by heaven; for it is God’s throne: nor by the earth; for 
it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem; for it is the city of the 
great King. 

3. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst 
not make one hair white or black: but let your communica¬ 
tion be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than these 
cometli of evil. 

4. Ye have heard that it hath been said, an eye for an eye, 
and a tooth for a tooth: but I say unto you, that ye resist not 
evil; but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn 
to him the other also. 

5. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would 
borrow of thee turn not thou away. Ye have heard that it 
hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine 
enemy. 

6. But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that 
curse vou, do good to.them that hate you, and pray for them 
which despitefully use you, and persecute you: that ye may 
be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he mak- 
eth his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth 
rain on the just and the unjust. 




44 


7. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have 
ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute 
your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even 
the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Fa¬ 
ther which is in heaven is perfect. 

8. Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judg¬ 
ment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure 
ye mete, it sliall be measured to you again. 

9. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy bro¬ 
ther’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own 
eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, let me pull out the 
mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own 
eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own 
eye; anti then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out 
of thy brother’s eye, 

10. Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men 
should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law 
and the prophets. 

11. Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate and 
broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many 
there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, 
and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few 
there be that find it. 

12. Moreover if thy brother shall trespass against thee, 
go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone: if he 
shall hear thee thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will 
not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that 
in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be 
established. 

13. For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took 
me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visit¬ 
ed me: 1 was in prison, and ye came unto me. 

14. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, 
when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and 
gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took 
thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? or when saw we thee 
sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? 

15. And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily 
I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. 

16. And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted 
him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? 






45 

! He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest 
! thou? 

1 17. And he answering, said, thou shalt love the Lord 

Mthy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with 
all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as 

• thyself. 

18. And he said unto him, thou hast answered right: this 
do, and thou shalt live. But he, willing to justify himself, 

• said unto Jesus, and who is my neighbour? 

19. And Jesus answering, said, a certain man went down 

• from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which 
i stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and depart- 
1 ed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down 
> a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed 

by on the other side. 

i 20. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came 
and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a 
certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and 
when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to 
him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and 
, set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and 
took care of him. 

21. And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out 
i two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, 

; take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when 
I come again, I will repay thee, 
t 22. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neigh- 
: bor unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, he 
that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, go, 
j and do thou likewise. 

i 23. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maim- 

• ed, the lame, the blind: 

24. And he said, a certain man had two sons: and the 
, younger of them said to his father, father give me the por« 
i tion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them 
; his living. 

i 25. And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
all together, and took his journey into a far country, and 
7 there wasted his substance with riotous living. And when 

• lie nad spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; 
and lie began to be in want. 

1 26. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that 

? eountrv; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And 






46 


he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the 
swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. 

27. And when he came to himself, he said, how many 
hired servants of my father’s have bread enough, and to spare, 
and I petfish with hunger! I will arise, and go to my father, 
and will say unto him, father, I have sinned against heaven, 
and before thee; and am no more worthy to be called thy 
son: make me as one of thy hired servants. 

28. And he arose, and came to his father. But when he 
was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compas¬ 
sion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And 
the son said unto him, father, I have sinned against heaven, 
and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy 
son. 

29. But the father said to his servants, bring forth the best 
robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and 
shoes on his feet: and bring hither the fitted calf, and kiil it: 
and let us eat, and be merry: for this my son was dead, and 
is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to 
be merry. 

SO. Take heed to yourselves: if thy brother trespass against 
thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him. 

31. And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted 
in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others: 
two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, 
and the other a publican. 

52. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, 
I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, 
unjust, adulterers, or even as this Publican. 

53. I fast twice in the week, I give tythes of all that I pos¬ 
sess. And the Publican, standing afar off, would not lift up 
so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, 
saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. 

34. 1 tell you, this man went down to his home justified, 
rather than the other: for every one that exaltetli himself 
shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalt¬ 
ed. 

55. This is my commandment, that ye love one another as 
I have loved you. 



47 

SECTION II. 

INSTRUCTIONS OF PAUL THE APOSTLE. 

1. Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars hill, and said, ye 
men of Athens, I perceive that in fill things ye are too super¬ 
stitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I 
found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN 
GOD. Whom therefore, ye ignorantly worship, him de¬ 
clare I unto you. 

2. God that made the world and all things therein, seeing 
that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples 
made with hands; neither is worshipped with men’s hands, 
as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, 
and breath, and all things. 

3. And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to 
dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the 
times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; 
that they should seek the Lord, if happily they might feel af¬ 
ter him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of 
us. 

4. For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as 
certain also of your own poets have said, for we are also his 
offspring. Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of God, 
we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or 
silver, or stone, graven by art and man’s device. 

5. And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a con¬ 
science void of offence toward God, and toward men. 

6. For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but 
the doers of the law shall be justified. 

7. Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which 
is evil; cleave to that which is good. 

8. Recotnpence to no man evil for evil. Provide things ho¬ 
nest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as lieth 
in you, live peaceably with all men. 

9. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, 
give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire 
on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil 
with good. 

10. And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due sea¬ 
son we shall reap, if we faint not. As we have therefore, 
opportunity, let us do good unto all men. 

11. And that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own bu- 
j siness, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded 




4S 


you: that ye may walk honestly toward them that are with¬ 
out, and that ye may have lack of nothing. 

12. For even when we were with you, tins we commanded 
you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. Foi 
we hear that there are some which walk among you disorder¬ 
ly, working not all, but are busy bodies. 

13. Now them that are such we command and exhort by 
our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eal ■ 
their own bread. But ye brethren, be not weary in well do¬ 
ing. And if any man obey notour word by this epistle, note 1 
that man, and have no company with him, that he may be j 
ashamed. Yet count him not as an enemy, but admonish ] 
him as a brother. 

14. In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in 
modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety: not with f. 
broidered hair or gold, or pearls, or costly array. 

15. Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be noi \ 
high minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living j 
God, whogiveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good » 
that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing t< j, 
communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foun 
dation against the time to come, that they may lay hold or \ 
eternal lifje. 

16. Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to enter * 

tain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels una 
wares. Remember them that are in bonds, as bound witl 
them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselve: 
also in the body. R 


SECTION III. 

EXTRACTS FROM THE EPISTLES OF JAMES, PETER AND JOHN 

1. If any man among you seem to be religious, and bri 
dleth not his tongue, but deceiveth lus own heart, this man’: 
religion is vain. Pure religion and undefiled before Got 
and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows ii 
their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
world. 

2. For if there come unto your assembly a man with a goli: 
ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor mar 
in vile raiment; and ye have respect to him that wearetl 
the gay clothing, and say unto him, sit thou here in a goot 
place; ana say to the poor, stand thou there, or sit here un 




49 


tier my footstool: are ye not then partial in yourselves, and 
are become judges of evil thoughts? 

3 What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he 
hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him? If a bro¬ 
ther or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of 
you say unto them, depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; 
notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are need¬ 
ful to the body; what doth it profit? 

4. Even so, faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. 
Yea, a man may say, thou hast faith, and I have works: show 
me thy faith without thy works, and I will show thee my 
faith by my works. For. as the body without the spirit is 
dead, so faith without works is dead also. 

5. For it is better, if the will of God be so, that ye suffer 
for well doing. 

6. And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith 
virtue; and to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge temper¬ 
ance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; 
and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kind¬ 
ness charity. 

7. But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother 
have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 
him, how dvvelleth the love of God in him? My little child - 
ren let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and 
in truth. 

8. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one 
another. No man hath seen God at any time. If we love 
one another, God dvvelleth in us, and his love is perfected in 
us. Hereby know we that we dwell in him, and he in us, be¬ 
cause he hath giveii us of his Spirit. 


Ij 

L 


5 





PART THIRD. 


ABRIDGEMENT OF THE LIVES AND MORAL DISCOURSES OF 
CONFUCIUS AND SOCRATESJ AND SENECA’S MORALS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF THE LIFE AND MORAL PRECEPTS OF CON¬ 
FUCIUS. 

Let others bestrew the hearses of the great with panegyric. When 
a philosopher dies, I consider myself as losing a patron, an instructor 
and a friend: I consider the world as losing one who might serve to con¬ 
sole her amidst the desolations of war and ambition. Nature seems 
to have forgotten, for more than three thousand years, the manner in 
which she once formed the brain of a Confucius. Goldsmith. 

1. The celebrated Chinese philosopher, Confucius, did not 
grow in knowledge by degrees, as children usually do, but 
seemed to arrive at reason and the perfection of his facul¬ 
ties almost from his infancy. He had a grave and serious 
deportment, which gained him respect, and plainly foretold 
what he one day would be. 

2. What distinguished him most was his unexampled and 
exalted piety. He honored his relations; he endeavored in 
all things to imitate his grandfather, who was then alive in 
China, and a most holy man. It was observable that he 
never ate any thing but lie prostrated himself on the ground 
and offered it first to the supreme Lord of heaven. 

3. One day, when he was a child, he heard his grandfa¬ 
ther fetch a deep sigh; and going up to him with much re¬ 
verence, “ may i presume,” says he, “ without losing the 
respect I owe you, to inquire into the occasion oi your 
grief? Perhaps you fear that your posterity should dege¬ 
nerate from your virtue, and dishonor you by their vices.” 

4. What put this thought into your head, says his grand¬ 
father to him? and where have you learnt to speak in this 
manner? “ From yourself,” replied Confucius. “ l attend 
diligently to you every time you speak; and I have often 
heard you guy, that a son, who does not by his own virtue 




52 


support the glory of his ancestors, and imitate the virtues 
of his parents, does not deserve to hear their name.” 

5. At the age of twenty three, when he had gained con¬ 
siderable knowledge of antiquity, and acquainted himself 
with the laws and customs of his country, he began to pro- j 
ject a scheme for a general reformation; for then all the lit¬ 
tle kingdoms depended upon the Emperor; but it often hap¬ 
pened that the imperial authority was not able to keep them 
within the bounds of their duty, each of the kings being 
master of his dominions. 

0. Confucius, wisely persuaded that the people could ne¬ 
ver he happy, so long as avarice, ambition, voluptuousness, 
and false policy should reign in this manner, resolved to 
preach up a severe morality; and accordingly he began to 
enforce temperance, justice, and other virtues, to inspire a 
contempt of riches and outward pomp, to excite to magna¬ 
nimity and greatness of soul, which should make men in¬ 
capable of dissimulation and insincerity. 

7. He used every mean he could devise, to redeem his 
countrymen from a life of pleasure to a life of reason. He 
was every where known, and as much beloved. His ex¬ 
treme knowledge and great wisdom soon made him known: 
his integrity, and the splendor of his virtues, made him be¬ 
loved. Kings were governed by his wisdom, and the peo¬ 
ple reverenced him as a saint. 

8. lie was offered several high offices in the magistracy, 
which he sometimes accepted; but never from a motive of 
ambition, which he was not at all concerned to gratify, hut 
always with a view of reforming a corrupt state, and amend¬ 
ing mankind: for lie never failed to resign those offices, as 
soon as he perceived that he could be no longer useful in 
them. 

9. He inculcated fidelity and candor among the men, ex¬ 
horted the women to chastity and simplicity of manners. l)y 
such methods he wrought a general reformation, and estab¬ 
lished every where such concord and humanity, that the king¬ 
dom seemed as it were but one great family. 

10. Thus the people, regulated by the wise maxims and 
precepts of Confucius, enjoyed general happiness, till at 
length the jealousy of the neigboring kings was excited. 
They were convinced that a king, under the counsels of such 
a man as Confucius would soon become too powerful. They 
contrived a plot to demolish the edifice, of wisdom and virtue. 


which Confucius had erected, by the temptations of dissipa¬ 
tion, luxury, vice and sensual pleasures. 

11. With a view to effect this object, they raised an army 
of thirty of the most beautiful maids, that could be procured 
in their dominions, whom they caused to be disciplined in 
the schools of fashion, until they had attained the most com¬ 
plete proficiency in singing and dancing, and were perfectly 
mistresses of all those charms and accomplishments, which 
might please and captivate the heart. 

12. These, under the pretext of an embassy, they present¬ 
ed to the king of Lou, and to the grandees of his court. The 
present was joyfully received, and had its desired effect. 
The arts of good government were immediately neglected, 
and nothing was thought of, but inventing new pleasures for 
the entertainment of the fair strangers. 

13. In short, nothing was regarded for some months but 
feasting, dancing, shows, &c., and the court was entirely dis¬ 
solved in luxury and pleasure. Confucius had foreseen all 
this, and endeavored to prevent it by recommending the re¬ 
fusal of the present; and he now labored to take off the delu¬ 
sion they were fallen into, and to bring men back to reason 

a nd their duty. 

14. But his efforts proved ineffectual; there was nobody to 
listen to the instructions of the philosopher, but every thing 
yielded to the overwhelming current of merriment and pro¬ 
digality. Confusion and profligacy at length prevailed over 
Confucius and virtue. Rebellion, wars, and tumults raged 
throughout the empire. 

15. Conspiracies were formed against his life: to which 
may be added, that his neglect to his own interests had re¬ 
duced him to the extremest poverty. Some philosophers 
among his contemporaries were so affected with the terrible 
state of things, that they had rusticated themselves into 
the mountains and deserts, as the only places where happi¬ 
ness could be found; and would have persuaded Confucius to 
have followed them. 

16. But “ I am a man, says Confucius, and cannot exclude 
myself from the Society of men, and consort with beasts. 
Bad as the times are, I shall do all that I can to recall men to 
virtue: for in virtue are all things, and if mankind would but 
once embrace it, and submit themselves to its discipline, and 
laws, they would not want me or any body else to instruct 
them 

17. “ It is the duty of a good man, first to perfect himself, 

5 




54 


and then to perfect others. Human nature, said he, came to 
us from heaven pure and perfect; but in process of time igno¬ 
rance, the passions, and evil examples have corrupted it. All 
consists in restoring it to its primitive beauty; and to be per¬ 
fect, we must re-ascend to that point, from which we have 
fallen. 

18. “ Obey heaven, and follow the orders of him who gov¬ 
erns it. Love your neighbor as yourself. Let your reason, 
and not your senses, be the rule of your conduct; for reason 
will teach you to think wisely, to speak prudently, and to 
behave yourself worthily upon all occasions.” 

19? Confucius, in the mean time, though he had with¬ 
drawn himself from kings and palaces, did not cease to travel 
about, and do what good he could among the people, and 
among mankind in general. He had often in his mouth the 
maxims and examples of their ancient heroes, so that they 
were thought to be all revived in the person of this great man. 
We shall not wonder, therefore, that he proselyted a great 
number of disciples, who were inviolably attached to his per¬ 
son. 

20. He is said to have had at least three thousand; seventy- 
two of whom were distinguished above the rest by their supe¬ 
rior attainments, and ten above them all by their comprehen¬ 
sive view and perfect knowledge of his whole philosophy and 
doctrines. He divided his disciples into four classes, who 
applied themselves to cultivate and propagate his philosophy, 
each according to his particular distinction. 

21. The first class were to improve their minds by medita¬ 
tion, and to purify their hearts by virtue. The second were 
to cultivate the arts of reasoning justly, and of composing 
elegant and persuasive discourses. 

22. The study of the third class was to learn the rules of 
good government, to give an idea of it to the mandarins, and 
to enable them to fill the public offices with honor. The last 
class were concerned in delivering the principles of morality 
in a concise and polished style, to the people. 

23. He sent six hundred of his disciples into different parts 
of the. empire, to reform the manners of the people; and not 
satisfied with benefiting his own country only, he made fre¬ 
quent resolutions to pass the seas, and propagate his doctriue 
to the farthest part of the world. Hardly any thing can be 
added to the purity of his morality, which he taught as ford* 
b!y by example as by precept. 



55 


24. A few days before hi9 last illness, he told his disciples, 
with tears in his eyes, that he was overcome with grief at the 
sight of the disorders which prevailed in the empire: " The 
mountain, said he, is fallen, the high machine is demolished, 
and the sages are all fled.” 

25. His meaning was, that the edifice of perfection, which 
he had endeavorecl to raise, was entirely overthrown. He 
began to languish from that time, and the seventh day before 
his death, “ The kings, said he, reject my maxims; and since 
I am no longer useful on the earth, I may as well leave it.” 

26. After these words he fell into a lethargy, and at the 
end ot seven days, expired in the arms of his disciples, in the 
seventy-third year of his age. Upon the first hearing of his 
death, the monarch who|then reigned in the kingdom of Lou, 
could not refrain from tears; “ the Tien is not satisfied with 
me, cried he, since it has taken away Confucius.” In reality 
wise men are precious gifts with which heaven blesses the 
earth; and their worth is never so well known as when they 
are taken away. 

27. Confucius was lamented by the whole empire, which 
from that very moment began to honor him as a saint; and 
established such a veneration for his memory, as will proba¬ 
bly last for ever in those parts of the world. Kings have 
built palaces for him in all the provinces, whither the learn¬ 
ed go at certain times to pay him homage. 

2fe. There are to be seen upon several edifices, raised ia 
honor of him, inscriptions in large characters, To the great 
master; To the head doctor; To the saint; To him who taught 
emperors and kings. They built his sepulchre near a city 
on the banks of the river Su, where he was wont to assemble 
his disciples; and they have since enclosed it with walls* 
which look like a small city to this very day. 

29. Confucius did not trust altogether to the memories of 
his disciples, for the preservation of his philosophy, but he 
composed several books: and though these books were great¬ 
ly admired for the doctrines they contained, and the fine 
principles of morality they taught, yet such was the unparal¬ 
leled modesty of this philosopher, that he never assumed the 
least honor about them- 

30. He ingenuously owned, that the doctrine was not his 
own, but was much more ancient; and that he had done no¬ 
thing more than collected it from wise legislators who lived 
fifteen hundred years before htm. 




56 




31. These books are held in the highest esteem and verier ' 

ation; because they contain all that he had collected relating [ 
to the ancient laws, which are looked upon as the most per " 
feet rule of government. ^ . jj 

32. There are some maxims and moral sentences in his 
collection, equal to those of the seven wise men of Greece 
which have always been so much admired. 

33. One of these books is called Sias Hio, that is, the sci- ' 
ence, or the school of children; which is a collection of sen¬ 
tences and examples taken from ancient and modern authors. ' 
They who would have a perfect knowledge of all these works, ] 
will find it in the Latin translation of father Noel, one of the 
most ancient missionaries of China, which was printed at 
Prague in the year 1711. 

Note —The preceding article is derived principally from the Chinese 
Traveller, which describes some traces of the precepts of Confucius, 
which are observed in China, at the present time; but are much obscured 
and adulterated by a “ monstrous heap of superstitions, magic, idolatry, 
and all sorts of ridiculous and extravagant opinions ” 


CHAPTER 2. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF THE LIFE AND MORAL DISCOURSES OF SO¬ 
CRATES, CHIEFLY FROM ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY, AND 

xenophon’s memoirs. 

SECTION I. 

CHARACTER OF SOCRATES. 

-First Socrates, 

Who, firmly good in a corrupted state, 

Against the rage of tyrants single stood. 

Invincible! calm Reason’s holy law, 

Thar voice of God within th’ attentive mind. 

Obeying, fearless, or in life or death; 

Great moral teacher! wisest of mankind! 

Thomson 

IIow to live happiest; - - — 

The precepts here of a divine old man 

I could recite. .... 

—---Of right and wrong he taught 

Truths as refin’d as ever Athens hear’d; 

And (strange to tell!) he practis'd what he preach’d. 

Armstrong. 

L Socrates was born at Athens, 471 years before the com¬ 
mencement of the Christian era. His father was a sculptor; 













anti he at first learned the same trade himself, in which he be¬ 
came very expert- His example, like that of Franklin, the 
Socrates of America, shows that greatness of mind is not ex¬ 
cluded by the hand of nature, from the sons of industry; 
though wherever found, the polish of knowledge is essential 
to the development of its inherent beauties. 

2. Criton is reported to have taken him out of his father’s 
shop, from the admiration of his fine genius, and the opinion 
that it was inconsistent for a young man, capable of the great¬ 
est things, to continue perpetually employed upon stone 
with a chisel in his hand. His first study was physics, the 
works of nature, astronomy, &c.; according to the custom of 
those times. 

3. But after having found by his own experience, how diffi¬ 
cult, abstruse, intricate, and at the same time, how little use¬ 
ful that kind of learning was to the generality of mankind, 
he was the first, according to Cicero, who conceived the 
thought of bringing down philosophy from heaven, to place it 
in cities, and introduce it into private houses; humanizing it, 
to use that expression, and rendering-it more familiar, more 
useful in common life, more within the reach of man’s capaci- 
ty, and applying it solely to what might make them more ra¬ 
tional, just and virtuous. 

4. lie found-there w as a kind of folly in devoting the whole 
vivacity of his mind, and employing all his time, in inquiries 
merely curious, involved in impenetrable darkness, and abso¬ 
lutely incapable of contributing to human happiness; whilst 
he neglected to inform himself in the ordinary duties of life, 
and learning what is conformable, or opposite to piety, jus¬ 
tice and probity; in what fortitude, temperance, and wisdom 
consist; what is the end of all government; what the rules of 
it, and what qualities are necessary for comanding and ruling- 
well. 

3. He had accustomed himself early to a sober, severe, labo¬ 
rious life; and yet he entertained the most perfect contempt 
for riches, and contentment with poverty. He looked upon 
it as a divine perfection to be in want of nothing. Seeing the 
pomp and show displayed by luxury in certain ceremonies, 
and the infinite quantity of gold and silver employed in them; 
“ How many things,” said he, congratulating himself on his 
condition, “do I not want!” 

6. His father left him eighty mina, that is to say, 4,000 livres, 
which he lent to one of his friends, who had occasion for that 




58 


sum. But the affairs of that friend having taken an ill turn, 
he lost the whole, and suffered that misfortune with such in- j 
difference and tranquillity, that he did not so much as complain 
of it. t , i 

7. The peculiar austerity of his life did not render him 
gloomy and morose, as, was common enough in those times. » 
Though he was very poor, he piqued himselfupon the neatness I : 
of his person and his house, and could not suffer the ridiculous 
affectation of Antisthenes, who always wore dirty and ragged 
clothes. He told him once, that through the holes in his 
cloak, and the rest of his tatters, abundance of vanity might 
be discerned. 

8. The ardent admiration of poverty, imputed to Socrates, 
Diogenes, and other ancien tphilosophizers, ought to be styled 
philosophical fanaticism , rather than genuine wisdom and 
prudence; which inculcate the accumulation of property by 
persevering diligence, as well as the preservation of it, by 
economy and simplicity of manners. 

9. The desire of wealth may become pernicious, when 
cherished at the sacrifice of honesty; and the possession of 
it may be mischievous, both to the owner and others, or be-* 
neficial, according to his want of capacity to govern his pas¬ 
sions, or his discretion and benevolence. 

10. Extreme poverty ought to be regarded among the most 
terrible calamities of human life; and though vastly prefer¬ 
able to riches with a prostituted conscience, ought not to 
be submitted to contentedly, except on these conditions: 

For the future be prepar’d, 

Guard wherever thou canst guard; 

But thy utmost duty done, 

Welcome what thou canst not shun — Burns. 

11. One of the most distinguishing qualities of Socrates* 
was a tranquillity of soul, that no accident, no loss, no in¬ 
jury, no ill treatment could ever alter. Seneca tells us, that 
he had desired his friends to apprise him whenever they saw 
him ready to fall into a passion, and that he had given them 
that privilege over him, which he took himself with them. 
Finding himself in great emotion against a slave, “ I would 
beat you,” says he, “ if I were not angry.” 

12. Without going out of his own house, he found enough 
to exercise his patience in all its extent. Xantippe, his wife, 
put it to the severest proofs by her capricious, passionate, 
violent disposition. She would sometimes be transported 






59 


with such an excess of rage as to tear off his cloak in the 
open street, and even one day, after having vented all the 
reproaches her fury could suggest, she emptied a pot upon 

*h nd d> at r h,Ch , he on , y lau S he(1 > and said, “ that so much 
thunder must needs produce a shower." 

h f V -‘ n i ; related some particularities in the life 
of Socrates, it is time to proceed to that in which his cha¬ 
racter principally and peculiarly consisted; I mean the pains 

youth 0k of°Athen U s mankind ’ and P articu,al l y in forming the 

14. He seemed, says Libarius, the common father of the 
repubhc so attentive was he to the happiness and advantage 
of his whole country. But as it is very difficult to correct 
the aged, and to make people change principles who revere 
the errors in which they have grown gray, he devoted his la¬ 
bors principally to the instruction of youth, in order to sow 

the^eeds of Vlrtue >n a soil more fit to produce the fruits 

15. He had no open school, like the rest of the philoso¬ 

phers, nor set times for his lessons. He’ had no benches 
prepared, nor ever mounted a professor’s chair. He was the 
philosopher of all times and seasons. He taught in all 
places and upon all occasions; in walking, conversation at 
meals in the army, in the public assemblies, in prison itself; 
and when he drank the poison, he philosophized, says Plu¬ 
tarch, and instructed mankind. And from thence the same 
judicious author takes occasion to establish a great princiole 
m point of government. r * 

16. To be a public man, says he, it is not necessary to be 
actually in office, to wear the robe of judge or magistrate, 
and to sit in the highest tribunals, for the administration of 

justice. But whoever knows how to give wise counsel to 
those who consult him, to animate the citizens to virtue, and 
to inspire them with sentiments of probity, equity, generosity, 
and love of their country; this is, says Plutarch, the true ma¬ 
gistrate and ruler, in whatever place or condition he be. 

17. Such was Socrates. The services he did the state, by 
the instructions he gave their youth, and the disciples he 
formed, are inexpressibly great; never had master a greater 
number, or so illustrious. The ardor of the young Athenians 
to follow him, was incredible. They left father and mother 
and renounced all parties of pleasure, to attach themselves 
to him, and hear his discourses. 



y 


60 


SECTION II. 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN SOCRATES AND GLAUCO, ON EXCESSIVE 
AMBITION. 

1. The young people of Athens, dazzled with the glory of 
Themistocles, Cimon, and Pericles, and full of a wild ambi¬ 
tion, after having received for some time the lessons of the 
sophists, who promised to make them very great politicians, 
conqeived themselves capable of every thing, and aspired to 
the highest employments. 

2 One of these, named Glauco, had taken it so strongly 
into his head, to enter upon the administration of the public 
affairs, though not twenty years old, that none of his family 
or friends were able to divert him from a design, so little con¬ 
sistent with his age and capacity. Socrates, who had an af¬ 
fection for him on account! of Plato Ins brother, was the only 
person who could prevail upon him to change his resolution. 

3. Meeting him one day, he accosted him so happily with 
discourse, that he engaged him to give the hearing. “ You 
are desirous then to govern the republic,” said he to him. 

True,” replied Glauco. “You cannot have a more noble 
design,” answered Socrates, “for if you succeed you will 
have it in your power to serve your friends effectually, to ag¬ 
grandize your family, and to extend the confines of your 
country 

4. “You will make yourself known, not only to A thefts, but 
throughout all Greece, and perhaps your renown, like that of 
Themistocles, may spread abroad amongst the barbarous na* 
tions. In short, wherever you are, you will attract the res¬ 
pect and admiration of the whole world.” 

5. So smooth and insinuating a prelude, was extremely 
pleasing to the young man, who was taken by his blind side. 
He staid willingly,gave him no occasion to press him on that 
account, and the conversation continued. “ Since you desire 
to be esteemed and honored, no doubt your view is to be use¬ 
ful to the public?” “ Certainly.” “ Tell me then, I beg you, 
what is the first service you propose to render the state?” 

6. As Glauco seemed at a loss, and meditated upon what 
he should answer; “I pi •esume,” continues Socrates, " it is to 
enrich it, that is to say, to augment its revenues.” “ My very 
thought.” “ You are well versed then, undoubtedly in the 
revenues of the state, and know perfectly to what they may 
amount. You have not failed to make them your particular 




3 fudv, in order that if a fund should happen to fail, by an'y 
unforeseen accident, you might be able to supply the deficien¬ 
cy, by another.” 

7. “ I protest,” replied Glauco, “ that never entered my 
thoughts.” “ At least you will tell to what the expenses of 
the republic amount; for you must know the importance 
of retrenching such as are superfluous.” “ 1 own 1 am a* 
little informed in this point as the other.” “ You must there¬ 
fore defer your design of enriching the state till another time; 
for it is impossible you should do it, whilst you are unac¬ 
quainted with its revenues and expenses.” 

8. “ But,” said Glauco, “ there is still another means which 
you have not mentioned. A state may be enriched by the ruin 
of their enemies.” “ You are in the right,” replied Socrates. 

But that depends upon its being the strongest; otherwise it 
incurs the danger of losing what it has. For which reason, he 
who talks of engaging in a war, ought to know the forces on 
both sides; that if he finds his own party strongest, he may 
boldly advise the war, and if weakest, dissuade the people 
from undertaking it. 

9. “ Now, do you know the strength of our republic, and of 
our enemies, by sea and laud? Have you a statement of them 
in writing? Be so kind to let me see it.” “ I have not at 
present,” said Glauco. “ l see then,” said Socrates, “ tnat we 
shall not presently enter into a war, if you are charged with 
the government; for you have abundance of inquiries to 
make, and much pains to go through, before you will resolve 
upon it.” 

•10. He ran over in this manner, several other articles no 
less important, with which Glauco appeared equally unac¬ 
quainted; till he brought him to confess, how ridiculous those 
people were, who have the rashness to intrude into govern¬ 
ment without any other preparation for the service oi the. pub¬ 
lic, than that of an high esteem for themselves, and an im¬ 
moderate ambition of rising to the first places and dignities* 

11. “ Have a care, dear Glauco,” said he to him, “ lest a 
loo warm desire of honors should deceive you into pursuits 
>hat may cover you with shame, by setting your incapacity 
iini slender abilities iu full light.” 

12. Glauco improved from the wise admonitions of Socra¬ 
tes, and took time to inform himself in private, before he ven- 

f tured to appear in public. This is a lesson for all ages, and 
nay be very useful to persons in all stations and condition^ 
rf life. G 




62 

SECTION III. 


DIALOGUE BETWEEN SOCRATES AND EUTHYDEMUS, ON THE I 
BENEFICENCE OF GOD. 

1. Xenophon has transmitted to us a conversation of So¬ 
crates with Euthydemus, upon the wisdom and goodness of 
Providence, which is one of the finest passages to be found 
in the writings of the ancients. 

2. “ Did you never reflect within yourself,” says Socrates 
to Euthydemus, “ how much care the gods have taken to be¬ 
stow upon man all that is necessary to his nature?” “ Never, 

1 assure you,” replied he. “ You see,” continued Socrates,; 
“ how necessary light is, and how precious that gift of the 
gods ought to appear to us.” 

3. “ Without it,” added Euthydemus, “ we should be like 
the blind, and all nature as if it were not, or were dead; be¬ 
cause we have occasion for suspense and relaxation, they have 
also given us the night for our repose.” 

4. “ You are in the right, and for this we ought to render i 
them continual praise and thanksgiving. They have ordain¬ 
ed that the sun, that bright and luminous star, should preside j 
over the day, to distinguish its different parts, and that its f 
light should not only serve to discover the wonders of nature, ! 
but to dispense universal light and heat; and at the same 
time they have commanded the moon and stars to illuminate 
the night of itself dark and obscure. 

5. “Is there any thing more admirable than this variety and 
vicissitude of day and night, of light and darkness, of labor . 
and rest; and all this for the convenience and good of j 
man?” 

6. Socrates enumerates in like manner, the infinite advan¬ 
tages we receive from fire and water in the occasions of life; 
and continuing to observe upon the wonderful attention of 
rrovidence in all that regards us. “ What say you,” pursued 
ic, “ upon the sun’s return after winter to revisit us, and that 
as the fruits of one season wither and decay, he ripens new 
ones to succeed them? 

7. “That having rendered man this service, he retires, lest 
he should incommode him by excess of heat; and then, after 
having removed to a certain point, which he could not pass 
without putting us in danger of perishing with cold, that he 
returns in the same track to resume his place in those parts 
of the heavens, where his presence is most beneficial to us? 

8. <« And because we would neither support the cold 








63 


heat, if we were to pass in an instant from one to the other> 
do you not admire, that while this star approaches and re¬ 
moves so slowly, the two extremities arrive by almost insen¬ 
sible degrees! Is it possible not to discover in this disposi¬ 
tion of the seasons of the year, a providence and goodness, 
not only attentive to our necessities, but even our delights 
and enjoyments?” 

9. “ All these things” said Euthydemus, “ make me doubt, 
whether the gods have any other employment than to show¬ 
er their gifts and graces upon mankind. There is one point, 
however, that puts me to a stand, which is, that the brute 
animals partake of ail these blessings as well as ourselves.” 

10. “Yes,” replied Socrates; “but do you but observe, that 
all these animals subsist only for man’s service? The strong¬ 
est and most vigorous of them he subjects at his will, he 
makes them tame and gentle, and uses them successfully in 
his wars, his labors, and the other occasions of life.” 

11. " What if we consider man in himself?” Here Socra¬ 
tes examines the diversity of the senses, by the ministry of 
which man enjoys all that is best and most excellent in na¬ 
ture ; the vivacity of his wit, and the force of his reason, 
which exalt him infinitely above all other animals; the won¬ 
derful gift of speech, by the means of which we communicate 
our thoughts reciprocally, publish our laws, and govern 
states. 

12. “ From all this,” says Socrates, ‘fit is easy to discern 
that there are gods, and that they have man in their particu¬ 
lar care; though he cannot discover them by his senses. 
Do 'we perceive the thunder, whilst it strikes through all 
things-that oppose it? Do we distinguish the winds, whilst 
they are tearing up all before them in our view? Our soul 
itself, with which we are so intimate, which moves and acts 
us,, is it visible? can we behold it? It is the same with re¬ 
gard to the gods, of whom none are visible in the distribution 
of their favors. 

13. “ The GREAT GOD himself, this great God, who has 
formed the universe, and supports the stupendous work, 
whose every partis finished with the utmost goodness and 
harmony; he who preserves them perpetually in immortal 
vigour, and causes them to obey him with a never failing 
punctuality, and a rapidity not to be followed by our imagi¬ 
nation; this God makes himself sufficiently visible by tTie 
endless wonders of which he is author; but continues always 
invisible in himself’. 





64 


14. “ Let us not then refuse to believe even what we do 
not see, and let us supply the defects of our corporeal eves, 
by using those of the soul) but especially let us learn to ren¬ 
der the just homage of respect and veneration to the divinity, 
whose will it seems to be, that we should have no other per¬ 
ception of him than by his effects in our favor. Now this 
adoration, this homage, consists in pleasing him, and we can 
only please him by doing his will.” 

15. In this manner Socrates instructed youth; these are 
file principles and sentiments he inspired into them; on the 
one side perfect submission to the laws and magistrates, in 
which he made justice consist; on the other, a profound re¬ 
gard for, and conformity to the will, of the divinity, which 
constitutes religion. 

SECTION IV. 

ACCUSATION, DEFENCE, CONDEMNATION AND DEATH OF SO¬ 
CRATES. 

1. Socrates having been accused by his enemies, of whom 
the best men frequently have the greatest number, and 
brought to a public trial, on a variety of frivolous and mostly 
false charges, he was condemned, by a majority of five hun¬ 
dred judges, to suffer death by drinking a decoction of hem¬ 
lock, (cicuta,) which he submitted to, with undaunted firmness 
and composure. 

2. One accusation was, that he denied the gods adored by 
his country; which if true, w ould have been one of the most 
magnanimous and glorious deeds he could have been guilty 
of. He, however, denies the charge, and cites the sacrifices 
he had made to them, in the temples and in his own house. 

3. He was accused of corrupting and leading astray the 
youth, there being mischievous and abandoned men found 
among those who had been his pupils. To which he makes 
:he following defence: 

4. “I am accused of corrupting the youth, and of instilling 
dangerous maxims into them, as well in regard to the wor¬ 
ship of the gods, as the rules of government. You know, 
Athenians, that I never made it my profession, to teach; nor 
can envy, how'ever violent against me, reproach me with 
ever having sold my instructions. I have an undeniable evi¬ 
dence for me in this respect, which is my poverty. 

5. “ Always equally ready to communicate my thoughts 




65 

either to the rich or poor, and to give them entire leisure to- 
question or answer me, I lend myself; to every one who is de¬ 
sirous of becoming virtuous; and if amongst those who hear 
me, there are any who prove either good or bad, neither the 
virtues of the one, nor the vices of the other, to which I have 
not contributed, are to be ascribed to me. 

6. “My whole employment is to persuade young and old 
against too much love for the body, for riches, and all other 
precarious things of whatever nature they be, and against 
too little regard for the soul, which ought to be the object of 
their affection: for I incessantly urge to you, that virtue does 
not proceed from riches, but on the contrary, riches from. 
Virtue; and that all the other goods of human life, as well 
public as private, have their source in the same principle. 

7. “ And what is the cause that when others are under a 
necessity to procure their delicacies from abroad, at an exor¬ 
bitant rate, I can indulge in pleasures far more exquisite, by 
recurring to the reflections in my own mind? If to speak in 
this manner be to corrupt youth, I confess Athenians, that I 
am guilty, and deserve to be punished.” “ Pass on me what 
sentence you please, Athenians, but I can neither repent 
nor change my conduct.” 

8. On hearing his final sentence, addressing himself to the 
judges with a noble tranquillity, “ I am going,” said he, “to 
suffer death by your order, to which nature had condemned 
me from the first moment of my birth; but my accusers will 
suffer no less from infamy and injustice by the decrees of 
truth,” 

9. While in prison, Socrates was notified by his friends 
that his jailor was bribed, and that it was in his power to 
escape the fatal destiny which awaited him, which he was 
pressingly urged to do. But he sternly rejected the propo¬ 
sition, on the principle that it would be unjust and shameful 
to violate and evade the laws of the republic, even in their 
cruel excesses; having repeatedly pledged himself to invio¬ 
lable fidelity, by the most solemn engagements. 

10. “ It has always been a maxim with us,” says he, “that 
it is never allowable, upon any pretence whatsoever, to com¬ 
mit injustice, not even in regard to those who injure us, nor 
to return evil for evil, and that when we have once engaged 
our word, we are bound to keep it inviolably; no interest 
being capable to dispense with it.” 

11. Some time after the death of Socrates, the Athenian®, 

# 6 



66 


became sensible of their shameful outrage, which appeared 
in all its horrors. Athens was in universal mourning and 
consternation. The accusers were called to an account,and 
condemned to death, banishment, and treated with every 
kind of contumelv; so that some of them killed themselves. 

12. The Athenians erected a statue of brass to him, and 
placed it in one of the most conspicuous parts of the city. 
Their respect and gratitude rose even to a religious vene¬ 
ration; they dedicated a chapel to him, as to a hero and a 
demi god, which they called Socrateion , that is to say, “ the 
chapel of Socrates.” 


SECTION V. 

DISCOURSES OF SOCRATES ON THE DUTIES OF CHILDREN TO 
PARENTS, AND ON FRATERNAL AFFECTION. 

1. Xenophon has recorded a conversation between Socra¬ 
tes and his son, on the patience that children ought to ex¬ 
ercise towards the faults of their parents; and another with 
Cherecrates, the brother of Cherephon, on fraternal friend¬ 
ship, which ought to be in possession of every family that 
now exists, of%hall exist in our world. 

2. Socrates observing his eldest son Lamprocles in a vio¬ 
lent passion with his mother, opened a discourse with him 
as follows:—“ Come hither, son,” said he; “ have you never 
heard of men who are called ungrateful? “ Yes, frequent¬ 
ly,” answered the youth. “ And what is ingratitude?” de¬ 
manded Socrates. “ It is to receive a kindness,” said Lam¬ 
procles, “ without making a proper return, when there is a 
favorable opportunity.” “ Ingratitude is therefore a species 
of injustice,” said Socrates. “ I should think so, answered 
Lamprocles.” 

3. “ If then,” pursued Socrates, “ ingratitude be injustice, 
does it not follow, that the degree of it must be proportion¬ 
ate to the magnitude of the favors which have been receiv¬ 
ed?” Lamprocles admitted the inference; and Socrates thus 
pursued his interrogations. 

4. “ Can there subsist higher obligations than those which 
children owe to their parents, from whom life is derived 
and supported, and by whose good offices it is rendered ho¬ 
norable, useful and happy?” “ I acknowledge the truth of 
what you say,” repiied Lamprocl.es; “ but who could suffer, 





67 ' 


without resentment, the ill humors of such a mother as I 
haver” ** What strange thing has she done to your” said 
Socrates. 

5. “ She has a tongue,” replied Lamprocles, " that no 
mortal can bear.” “ How much more,” said Socrates, “ has 
she endured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant 
cries, in the period of infancy! What anxieties has she suf¬ 
fered from the levities, capriciousness and follies of your 
childhood and youth! What affliction has she felt, what toil 
and watching has she sustained in your illnesses! These, and 
various other powerful motives to filial duty and gratitude, 
have been recognized by the legislators of our republic. 

6 . “ For, if any one be disrespectful to his parents, he i 9 
not permitted to enjoy any post of trust or honor. Let no 
one discover the contempt with which you have treated her;' 
for the world will condemn and abandon you for such beha¬ 
viour. And if it be even suspected that you repay with in¬ 
gratitude the good offices of your parents, you will inevita¬ 
bly forego the kindness of others; because no man will sup¬ 
pose that you have a heart to requite cither his favors or his 
friendship.” 

7 . Cherephon and Cherecrates having quarrelled with each 
other, Socrates, their common friend, was solicitous to re¬ 
store amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with Che¬ 
recrates, he thus accosted him: ‘ Is not friendship the sweet¬ 
est solace in adversity, and the greatest enhancement of the 
blessings of prosperity?” “ Certainly it is,” replied Chere¬ 
crates; “ because our sorrows arc diminished and our joys 
increased by sympathetic participation.” 

8 . “ Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?” 
said Socrates. “ Would you search among strangers? They 
cannot be interested about you. Amongst your rivals? They 
have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who 
are much older or younger than yourself? Their feelings 
and pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there 
not, then, some circumstances favorable, and others essen¬ 
tial, to the formation of friendship?” “ Undoubtedly ther.e 
are,” answered Cherecrates. 

9 . “ May we not enumerate,” continued Socrates, 
« amongst the circumstances favorable to friendship, long ac¬ 
quaintance, common connections, similitude of age and union 
of interest?” “ 1 acknowledge,” said Cherecrates, “ the 
powerful influence of these circumstances; but they may 




68 

subsist, and yet others be wanting, that arc essential to mu¬ 
tual amity.” 

10. “ And what,” said Socrates, “ are those essentials 
which are wanting in Cherephon?” “ He has forfeited my 
esteem and attachment,” answered Cherecrates. “ And has 
he also forfeited the esteem and, attachment of the rest ot 
mankind?” continued Socrates. “ Is he devoid of benevo- 
lence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections?” 

11. “ Far be it from me,” cried Cherecrates, “ to lay so 
heavy a charge upon him: his conduct to others is, I believe, 
irreproachable; and it wounds me the more that he should 
single me out as the object of his unkindness.” 

12 . “ If you desire that one of your neighbors should in¬ 
vite you to his feast, what course would you take?” “ I 
would first invite him to mine.” “And how would you in¬ 
duce him to take the charge of your affairs, when you are 
on a journey?” “I should be forward to do the same good 
office to him in his absence.” 

13. “ If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice which he 
may have received against you, how would you then be¬ 
have towards him?” “ I should endeavor to convince him 
by my looks, words and actions, that such prejudice was ill 
founded.” “ And, if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, ' 
would you reproach him with the injustice he had doneyour^ 

“ No,” answered Cherecrates; “ I would repeat no griev¬ 
ances.” 

14. “ Delay not, therefore, my Cherecrates, to do what I 
advise; use your endeavor to appease your brother; nor doubt 
his readiness to return your love.”—“ But suppose, my So¬ 
crates, when I have acted as you advise, my brother should 
behave no better than he has done?”—“ Should it prove so, 
Cherecrates, what other harm can arise to you from it, than 
that of having shown yourself a good man, and a good bro¬ 
ther to one, whose badness of temper makes him undeserving 
of your regard? 

15. “ But, I have no apprehension of so unfavorable an is¬ 
sue to this matter: rather, when your brother shall see it 
your intention to conquer by courtesy, he himself will strive 1 
to exceH in so noble a contest. As it is, nothing can be more 
deplorable than your present situation; it being no more 
than if these hamts, ordained of God for mutual assistance, 
should so far forget their office a* to impede each other:—But 
no situation can hinder brothers, who live in amity, from 
rendering one another the most essential services.” 


69 


SECTION VI. 

CONVERSATION BETWEEN SOCRATES AND CRITOBULUS, ON THE 
ART OF PROCURING THE FRIENDSHIP OF GOOD MEN. 

v 1. Suppose, said Socrates, we wanted to cliuse a worthy 
; friend, what should be our method of proceeding? Should we 
it not beware ot one much addicted to intemperance and dissi- 
. pation? or of a lazy diposition? Since enslaved to such vices, 
no man would be of use, either to himself, or any other/* 
o,' Certainly.” 

V 2. “ And if there was a person, provident indeed enough, 
jlbut withal so covetous, as never to be content unless he had 
the advantage of you on every occasion?”—•“ I would think 
Jot him worse than the other.”—“ But what do you say to the 
{ man, Critobulus, who is so much bent on making a fortune as 
. to mind nothing but what serves to that end?”—“ I say, leave 
, him to himself; since it is sure he will never be ofusetoany 
| other.” . 

3 “But what if the man were free from these defects; and 
had only such a selfishness belonging to him, as made him 
always ready to receive favors, but not at all solicitous about 
, returning any?” 

4. “ Why certainly, replied Critobulus, no person would 
wish to hav£ any thing to say to such a one:—But, my Socra¬ 
tes, continued he, since none of these people will serve our 
( purpose, show me T desire you, what sort of man he must 
be whom we should endeavor to make a friend of?” 
j 5. “I suppose,said Socrates, he should be the very reverse of 
f all we have been saying:—moderate in his pleasures—a strict 
observer of his word—fair and open in all his dealings; and 
I who will not suffer even Ins friend to surpass him in genero¬ 
sity; so that all are gainers with whom he hath to do.” 

(5. “ But how shall we find such a one, said Critobulus; or 
make trial of those virtues and vices, without running some 
hazard by the experiment? And when we have iouud out a 
3 man whom we judge proper to make a friend of; what means 
may we use to engage Ins affection?” 

’’ 7. “Nothunthim down, Critobulus, as wedo hares; nor catch 

7 him by stratagem, as we do birds; neither are we to seize 
him by force, as we are wont to do our enemies; for it would 
e be an arduous task to make a man your friend in spite oi in* 
e , clination.” 

8. “ You would insinuate, then, my Socrates, that m order 
^ to obtain a virtuous friend, we must endeavor, first oi all, to 
be ourselves virtuous?” 

I 


70 


9. " Why, can you suppose, Critobulus, that a bad man can 
gain the affection of a good one? Make yourself in the first » 
piace a virtuous man, and then boldly set yourself to gain 
the affection of the virtuous. Set yourself, therefore, dili¬ 
gently to the attainment of every virtue; and you will find 
on experience, that no one of them whatsoever but will flour- f 
ishand gain strength, when properly exercised. This is the 
counsel I have to give you, my Critobulus" 


CHAPTER 3. 

ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA’S MORALS 

SECTION I. 

CHARACTER CONDEMNATION, AND DEATH OF SENECA. 

He that would know all things, let him read Seneca; the most livel; 
descnber of public vices and manners, and the smartest reprehender o 
them — Lactwitius. 

Next to the gospel itself, 1 do look upon Seneca’s Morals, as the mos 
sovereign remedy against the miseries of human nature — L’Estrange. 

1. Seneca was by birth a Spaniard of Cordova, a Roman co 
lony of great fame and antiquity. His father came to Rom< 
in the time of Augustus, and his wife and children soon fol 
lowed him, Seneca being yet in his infancy. His father train 
ed him up to rhetoric, but his genius led him rather to philoso 
phy$ and he applied his wit to morality and virtue, the stud' 
of which he considered more essential to the felicity of man 
kind than all others. 

2. He was a great hearer of the celebrated men of thos< 
times; as Attalus, Sotion,Papirius, Fabianus, and he was mucl 
anadmirer also of Demetrius the cynic. His father was not a 
all pleased with his humor of philosophy , but forced him upoi 
the law, and for a while he practised pleading. After whic 
he put him upon public employment; and he came to be quaes 
tor, then pra3tor, and some will have it that he was chose; 
consul; but this is doubtful. 

3. Seneca finding that he had ill offices done him at courl 
and that Nero’s favor began to cool, he went directly and rc 
solutely to Nero, with an offer to refund all that he had gutter 
which Nero would not receive. Being Nero’s tutor and go 
vernor, all things went well as long as Nero followed hi 







71 


ounsel. Seneca had two wives; the name of the first is not 
nentioned;his second was Paulina, whom he often, speaks of 
vith great passion. 

4. His estate was partly patrimonial, hut the greatest part 
>f it was the bounty of his prince. His gardens, villas, lands, 
jossessions, and incredible sums of money arc agreed upon 
it all hands; which drew an envy upon him. Dio reports fiim 
;o have had 250,000?. sterling at interest in Brittany alone, 
-vhich he called in at a sum. 

5. Although he might have indulged in the most excessive 
uxury and voluptuousness, yet he preserved the more esti¬ 
mable liberty and power of self government, and adhered to a 
life of inflexible temperance in eating and drinking; for he 
lived only upon a simple diet, as the fruits of the earth, and 
lis drink was most commonly river water. 

6. The barbarous Nero, having suspected, or pretended to 
suspect Seneca of being concerned in Piso's conspiracy, sent 
him a message, that he was condemned to die. This occasion 
brought his fortitude, his favorite theme, to the test He 
heard his doom without surprise or disorder, and submitted 
to it with firmness ami apparent indifference. 

7. “ Where,” says he to his friends, “ is all your philosophy 
now? all your 'premeditated resolutions against the violences 
of fortune? Is there any man so ignorant of Nero's cruelty, 
as to expect, after the murder of his mother and his brother, 
that he should ever spare the life of his governor and tutor?” 

8. His affectionate wife, Paulina, begged to accompany him 
in his fate, and the veins of both their arms were opened at 
the same time. Nero, however, gave orders to prevent her 
death. Seneca finding his death slow and lingering, desired 
Statius Annseus, his old friend and physician, to give him a 
dose of poison, which he drank, but to little purpose. 

9 He went at last into a hot bath, the fume of which soon 
dispatched him, and his body was burnt without any funeral 
solemnity, as he had directed ih his testament; though his will 
was made in the height of his prosperity and power. 

10. Notwithstanding Seneca reproved and condemned the 
mockery of idolatry, he participated in the practice of it, with 
his fellow citizens, out of deference to the laws and customs 

' of his country. 

11. “ I came into the capitol,” says Seneca, “ where the 
1 several deities had their several servants and attendants, their 

lictors, their dressers, and all in posture and action, as if they 



were executing their offices; some to hold the glass, others to 
comb out Juno’s and Minerva’s hair; one to tell Jupiter what 
o’clock it is; some lasses there are that sit gazing upon the 
image, and fancy Jupiter has a kindness for them. 

12. “ All these tilings,”says Seneca, a while after, “a wise 
man will observe for the law’s sake more than for the gods; 
and all this rabble of deities, which the superstition of many 
a<res has gathered together, we are in such manner to adore 
as to consider the worship to be rather matter of custom than 
of conscience.” _ 

SECTION II. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF SENECA’S DISCOURSE OX BENEFICENCE* 


1. An obstinate goodness overcomes an ill dispostion, as a 
‘barren soil is made fruitful by care and tillage. But let a 
man be never so ungrateful or inhuman, he shall never des¬ 
troy the satisfaction of my having done a good office. 

2. But what if others will be wicked? does it follow that we 
must be so too? If others will be ungrateful, must we therefore 
he inhuman! To give and to lose, is nothing; but to lose and 
to give still, is the part of a great mind. And the other’s in 
effect, is the greater loss; for the one does but lose Ids benefit, 
•and the other loses himself. The light slbnes upon the pro¬ 
fane and sacrilegious as well as upon the righteous. The ma¬ 
riner puts to sea again after a wreck. 

3. An illustrious mind does not propose the profit of a good 
office, but the duty. If the world be wicked we should yet 
persevere in well-doing, even among evil men. 1 had rather 
never receive a kindness than never bestow one: nut to re¬ 
turn a benefit is the greater sin, but not to confer it is the 
earlier. 

4. We cannot propose to ourselves a more glorious exam¬ 
ple than that of the Almighty, who neither needs nor expects 
any thing from us; and yet he is continually showering down 
and distributing his mercies and his grace among us, not only 
for our necessities, but also for our delights; as fruits and sea¬ 
sons, rain and sunshine, veins of water and of metal; and all 
this to the wicked as well as to the good, and without anv 
other end than the common benefit of the receivers. 

5. With what face then can we be mercenary one to ano¬ 
ther, that have received all things from Divine Providence 
gratis? It i« a common saying, “ I gave such or such a man so 





73 


much money, 1 would I had thrown it into the sea:” and yet 
the merchant trades again after a piracy, and the banker ven¬ 
tures afresh after a bad security. 

6. He that will do no good offices after a disappointment, 
must stand still, and do just nothing at. all. The plough goes 
on alter a barren year: and while the ashes are yet warm, we 
raise a new house upon the ruins of a former. 

7. What obligations can be greater than those which child¬ 
ren receive from their parents? and yet should we give them 
over in their infancy, it were all to no purpose. Benefits, like 
grain, must be followed from the seed to the harvest. I will 
not so much as leave any place for ingratitude. 1 will pur¬ 
sue, and I will encompass the receiver with benefits; so that 
let him look which way he will, his benefactor shall be still in 
his eye, even when he would avoid his own memory. 

8 In a matter of money, it is a common tiling to pay a debt 
out of course, and before it be due; but we account ourselves 
to owe nothing for a good office; whereas the benefit increases 
bv delay. So insensible are we of the most important affair 
of human life. 

9. That man were doubtless in a miserable condition, that 
could neither see, nor hear, nor taste, nor feel, nor smell: but 
much more unhappy is he than that, wanting a sense of bene¬ 
fits, loses the greatest comfort in nature in the bliss of giving 
and receiving them? He that takes a benefit as it is meant, 
is in the right; for tiie benefactor has then his end, and his on- 
ly end, when the receiver is grateful. 


ABRIDGEMENT OF SENECA*S TREATISE ON A HAPPY LIFE. 

SECTION HI. 

ON A HAPPY LIFE, AND WHEREIN IT CONSISTS. 

1. There is not any thing in this world, perhaps, that is 
wore talked of, and less understood, than the business of a 
happy life. It is every man’s wish and design; and yet not 
one of a thousand that knows wherein that happiness consists, 
We live, however, in a blind and eager pursuit of it; and the 
more haste we make in a wrong way, the farther we are from, 
our journey’s end. 

2. ' Let us therefore, first, consider “ what it is we should 
be at;” and secondly, “ which is the readiest way to com¬ 
pass it.” If we be right, we shall find every day how muck. 







74 


we improve; but if we either folloiv the cry, or the track, 
people that are out of the way, we must expect to be mislecf 
and to continue our days in wandering and error. 

3. Wherefore, it highly concerns us to take along with us {■ 
skillful guide; for it is not in this, as in other voyages, when 
the highway brings us to our place of repose; or if a ma i 
should happen to be out, where the inhabitants might set hiijj 
right again; but on the contrary, the beaten road is here thf : 
most dangerous, and the people instead of helping us, mis! 
guide us. Let us not therefore follow, like beasts, but rather 
govern ourselves by reason , than by example. 

4. It fares with us in human life as in a routed army; on 
•stumbles first, and then another falls upon him, and so the * 
follow, one upon the neck of another, until the whole fief f 
comes to be but one heap of miscarriages. 

5. And the mischief is, “ that the nupiber of the multitud i 
carries it against truth and justice;” so that we must leave th 
crowd if we would be happy: for the question of a happy lij \ 
is not to be decided by vote: nay, so far from it, that pluralit 
of voices is still an argument of the wrong; the common peo } 
pie find it easier to believe than to judge, and content them ■ 
selves with what is usual, never examining whether it be gorn . 
or not. 

6. By the common people is intended the man of title as wel 
as the clouted shoe: for 1 do not distinguish them by the eye , 
but by the mind, which is the proper judge of the man. 

7. The true felicity of life is to be free from perturbations 
to understand our duties towards God and man: to enjoy tlu 
present without any anxious dependence upon the future 
The great blessings of mankind are within us, and within out 
reach; but we shut our eyes, and, like people in the dark, we 
fall foul upon the very thing we search for without finding it 

8. “Tranquillity is a certain equality of mind, which no 
condition of fortune can either exalt or depress.” Nothing 
can make it less: for it is the state of human perfection: i; 
raises us as high as we can go; and makes every man his own 
supporter; whereas, he that is borne up by any thing else may 
fail. 

9. “ True joy is a serene and sober motion;” and they arc 
miserably out that take laughing for rejoicing. The seat of! 
it is within, and there is no cheerfulness like the resolution 1 
of a brave mind, that has fortune under his feet. He that can 
iook death in the face, and bid it welcome; open his door to j 





75 


overly, and bridle his appetites; this is the man whom P'r'o- 
; idence has established in the possession of inviolable de- 
gbts. The pleasures of the vulgar are ungrounded, thin, 
nd superficial; but the other are solid and eternal. 

10. As the body itself is rather a necessary thing than a 
reatj so the comforts of it are but temporary and vain; be- 
ide that, without extraordinary moderation, their end is only 
ain and repentance; whereas, a peaceful conscience, honest 
iioughts, virtuous actions, and an indifference for casual 
vents, are blessings without end, satiety, or measure. 

11. This consummated state of felicity is only a submis- 
ion to the dictate of right nature; “ The foundation of it is 
visdom and virtue; the knowledge of what we ought to do, 
tnd the conformity of the will to that knowledge.” 

-_BI¬ 

SECTION IV. 

HUMAN HAPPINESS IS FOUNDED UPON WISDOM AMD VIRTUE, 

1. Taking for granted that human happiness is founded 
ipon wisdom and virtue , we shall treat of these two points 
n order as they lie; and, first, of wisdom; not in the latitude 
)f its various operations, but as it has only a regard to a good 
life, and the happiness of mankind. 

2. Wisdom is a right understanding, a faculty of discern¬ 
ing good from evil; what is to be chosen, and what rejected; 
a judgment grounded upon the value of things, and not the 
common opinion of them; an equality of force, and a strength 
of resolution. x It sets a watch over our words and deeds, it 
takes us up with the contemplation of the works of nature, 
and makes us invincible by either good or evil fortune. 

3. It is the habit of a perfect mind, and the perfection of 
humanity, raised as high as nature can carry it. It differs 
Irom philosophy , as avarice and money; the one desires, and 
tlie other is desired; the one is the effect and the reward of 
the other. To be wise is the use of wisdom, as seeing is the 
use of eyes, arid well speaking the use of eloquence. 

4. He that is perfectly wise is perfectly happy; nay, the 
very beginning of wisdom makes life easy to us. Neither is 
it enough to know this, unless we print it in our minds by 
daily meditation, and so bring a gpod will to a good habit. 

3. And we must practise what we preach: lor philosophy \i« 
not a subject for popular ostentation; nor does it rest y tl 
words, but in things. It K. not an entertainment U p 





76 


for delight, or to give a taste to our leisure; but it fashions 
the mind, governs our actions, tells what we are to do, and 
what not. 

6. It sits at the helm, and guides us through all hazards; ; 
nay, we cannot be safe without it, for every hour gives us oc- i 
casion to make use of it. It informs us in all the duties of life, , 
piety to our parents, faith to our friends, charity to the miser¬ 
able, judgment in counsel; it gives us peace by fearing no- 1 
thing, and riches by coveting nothing, 

7. There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man 
from discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he tempers 
it; if bad, he masters it; if he has an estate, he will exercise j 
his virtue in plenty; if none, in poverty. 

8. Some accidents there are, which I confess may effect j 
him, but not overthrow him; as bodily pains, loss of children 
and friends; the ruin and desolation of a man’s country. One 
must be made of stone, or iron, not to be sensible of these ca¬ 
lamities: and beside, it were no virtue to bear them, if a body 
did not feel them. If there were nothing else in it, a man- 
would apply himself to wisdom, because it settles him in a- 
perpetual tranquillity of mind. 


SECTION V. 

THERE CAN BE NO HAPPINESS WITHOUT VIRTUE. 

1. Virtue is that perfect good, which is the complement of a 
happy life; the only immortal thing that belongs to mortality: 
it is the knowledge both of others and itself; it is an invincible 
greatness of mind not to be elevated or dejected with good or 
ill fortune. 

2. It is sociable and gentle, free, steady, and fearless; con¬ 
tent within itself; full of inexhaustible delights; and it is va¬ 
lued for itself. One may be a good physician, a good govern¬ 
or, a good grammarian, without being a good man; so that all 
tilings from without are only accessaries: for the seat of it is a 
pure and holy mind. 

3. It consists in a congruity of actions which we can never 
expect so long as we are distracted by our passions. It is not 
the matter, but the virtue , that makes the action good or ill; 
and he that is led in triumph may be yet greater than his con¬ 
queror, 

4. When we come once to value our flesh above our hon¬ 
esty, we are lost; and yeti would not press upon dangers, no, 




77 




not so much as uponinconveniences, unless where the man and 
the brute come in competition: and in such a case, rather than 
make a forfeiture of my credit, my reason, or my faith, I would 
run all extremities. 

5. It is by an impression of nature that all men have a re¬ 
verence for virtu re; they know it, and they have a respect for 
it, though they do not practise it: nay, for the countenance of 
their very wickedness , they miscall it virtue. Their injuries 
they call benefits, and expect a man should thank them for 
doing him a mischief; they cover their most notorious iniqui¬ 
ties with a pretext of justice. 

6. He that robs upon the high way, had rather find his 
booty than force it. Ask any of them that live upon rapine, 
fraud, oppression, if they had not rather enjoy a fortune hon¬ 
estly gotten, and their consciences will not suffer them to de- 

i ny it. 

7. Men are vicious only for the profit of villainy; for, at the 
same time that they commit it, they condemn it. Nay, so 
powerful is virtue, and so gracious is Providence, that every 
man has a light set up within him for a guide; which we do all 
of us both see and acknowledge, though we do not pursue it.* 

8 What 1 do shall be done for conscience, not osten¬ 
tation. 1 will eat and drink, not to gratify my palate, but 
to satisfy nature: 1 will be cheerful to my friends, mild and 
placable to my enemies: I will prevent an honest request if 
I can foresee it, and I will grant it without asking: I will 
look upon the whole world as my country: I will live and 
die with this testimony, that 1 loved good studies and a good 
conscience; that l never invaded another man’s liberty, and 
that I preserved my own. 

9. Virtue is divided into two parts, contemplation and ac¬ 
tion. The one is delivered by institution, the other by ad¬ 
monition: one part of virtue consists in discipline; the other 
in exercise; for we must first learn, and then practise. The 
sooner we begin to apply ourselves to it, and the more haste 
we make, the longer shall we enjoy the comforts of a rec¬ 
tified mind; nay, we have the fruition of it in the very act 
of forming it: but it is another sort of delight, I must con¬ 
fess, that arises from the contemplation of a soul which is 
advanced into the possession of wisdom and virtue. 

10. If it was so great a comfort to us to pass from the sub- 

* “ 1 know the right and ! approve it too; 

4t Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue ”— Pope. 

* 7 





78 


jection of our childhood into a state of liberty and business, 
how much greater will it be when we come to cast off the 
boyish levity of our minds, and range ourselves among the 
philosophers? 

11. We are past our minority, it is true, but not our in¬ 
discretion; and, which is yet worse, we have the authority 
of seniors, and the weaknesses of children, (I might have 
said of infants, for every little thing frights the one, and 
every trivial fancy the other.) 

12. For virtue is open to all; as well to servants and ex¬ 
iles, as to princes: it is profitable to the world and to itself, 
at all distances and in all conditions; and there is no diffi¬ 
culty that can excuse a man from the exercise of it. 

13. Nay, the mind itself has its variety of perverse plea¬ 
sures as well as the body; as insolence, self-conceit, pride, 
garrulity, laziness, and the abusive wit of turning every 
thing into ridicule; whereas virtue weighs all this and cor- | 
rccts it. 


SECTION VI. 

PHILOSOPHY IS THE GUIDE OF LIFE. 

1. Philosophy* is divided into moral, natural ond rational 
the first concerns our manners; the second searches the 
works of nature; and the third furnishes us with propriety ! 
of words and arguments , and the faculty of distinguishing 
that we may not be imposed upon with tricks and fallacies.. 
The causes of things fall under natural philosophy, argu¬ 
ments under rational, and actions under moral . 

2. Moral philosophy is again divided into matter of jus¬ 
tice , -which arises from the estimation of things and of men: 
and into affections and actions; and a failing in any one of 
these, disorders all the rest: for what does Tt profit us to 
know the true value of things, if we be transported by our, 
passions? or to master our appetites without understanding* 
the when , the what, the how , and other circumstances of our 
proceedings? 

3. Socrates places all philosophy in morals; and wisdom 
in the distinguishing of good and evil. It is the art and 
law of life, and it teaches us what to do in all cases, and, 

* Love of wisdom, from two Greek words ,pbilos and sopbict. 


r 





79 

like good marksmen, to hit the white at any distance. In 
poverty it gives us riches, or such a state of mind as makes 
them superfluous to us. 

4. It arms us against all difficulties; one man is pressed 
with death, another with poverty; some with envy, others 
arc offended at Providence, and unsatisfied with the con¬ 
dition of mankind: but philosophy prompts us to relieve 
the prisoner, the infirm, the necessitous, the condemned; 
to show the ignorant their errors, and rectify their affections. 

5. It makes us inspect and govern our manners; it rouses 
us where we are faint and drowsy; it binds up what is loose, 
and humbles in us that which is contumacious; it delivers 
the mind from the bondage of the body, and raises it up to 
the contemplation of its divine original. The very shadow 
of glory carries a man of honor upon all dangers, to the 
contempt of fire and sword; and it were a shame if right 
reason should not inspire as generous resolutions into a 
man of virtue. 

6. As men of lettets are the most useful and excellent 
of friends, so ar@*they the best of citizens; as being better 
judges of the blessings they enjoy under a well ordered go¬ 
vernment, and of what they owe to the magistrate for their 
freedom and protection. They are men of sobriety and 
learning, and free from boasting and insolence; they reprove 
tlie vice, without reproaching the person; for they have learn¬ 
ed to be wise, without either pomp or envy. 

7. It is of the bounty of nature that we live; but of phi¬ 
losophy that we live well. Not but that philosophy is also 
the gift of heaven, so far as to the faculty, but not to the sci¬ 
ence; for that must be the business of industry. No man 
is born wise; but wisdom and virtue require a tutor, though 
we can easily learn to be*vicious without a master. 

8. It is philosophy that gives us a veneration for God, a 
charity for our neighbor, that teaches us our duty to heaven, 
and exhorts us to an agreement one with another; it un¬ 
masks things that are terrible to us, refutes our errors, re¬ 
strains our luxury, reproves our avarice. 

" 9. 1 could never hear Attalus upon the vices of the age, 

and the errors of life, without a compassion for mankind; 
and in his discourses upon poverty, there was something, 
metliought, that was more than human. “ More than we 
use,” says he, “ is more than we need, and only a burden to 



the hearer.” That saying of his put me out of countenance 
at the superfluities of my own fortune. 

10. And so in his invectives against vain pleasures, he 
did at such a rate advance the felicities of a sober table, a 
pure mind, and a chaste body, that a man could not hear 
him without a love for continence and moderation. Upon 
these lectures of his, I denied myself, for a while after, cer¬ 
tain delicacies that 1 had formerly used: but in a short time 
I fell to them again, though so snaringly, that the proportion 
came little short of a total abstinence. 

11 . Now, to show you how much more earnest my entrance 
upon philosophy was than my progress, my tutor Sotion gave 
me a wonderful affection for Pythagoras, and after him for 
Sextius: the former forbore shedding of blood upon his me- 
tempsycosis; and put men in fear of i t, lest they should offer 
violence to the s'ouls of some of their departed friends or re¬ 
lations. 

12 . “Whether,” says he, “ there be a transmigration or not, 
if it be true, there is no hurt in it; if false, there is frugality; 
and nothing is gotten by cruelty neither, twit the cozening a 
wolf, perhaps, or a vulture, of a supper.” 

13. Now, Sextius abstained upon another account, which 
was that he would not have men inured to hardness of heart 
by the laceration and tormenting of living creatures; beside, 
that nature had sufficiently provided for the sustenance of 
mankind without blood. 

- 14. This wrought so far upon me that I gave over eating of 
flesh, and in one year I made it not only easy to me but 
pleasant; my mind, methought, was more at liberty, (and [ 
am stili of the same opinion,)' but 1 gave it over nevertheless; 
and the reason was this: It was imputed as a superstition to 
the jews, the forbearance of some sorts of flesh, and mv father 
brought me back again to my old custom, that I might not be 
thought tainted with their superstition. Nay, and I had 
much ado to prevail upon myself to suffer it too. 1 make use 
of tins instance to show' the aptness of youth to take good im¬ 
pressions, if there be a friend at hand to press them. 

lo. Philosophers are the tutors of mankind; if they have 
found out remedies for the mind, it must be our part to apply 
them. 1 cannot think of Cato, Lelius, Socrates, Plato, with¬ 
out veneration; their very names are sacred to me. 

16 . 1 he life of a philosopher is ordinate, fearless, equal, 
secure; he stands firm in uii extremities, and bears the lot of 





81 

his humanity with a divine temper. There is a great differ¬ 
ence betwixt the splendor of philosophy and of fortune; the 
one shines with an original light, the other with a borrowed 
one; beside that, it makes us happy and immortal: for learn¬ 
ing shall outlive palaces and monuments. 

17. What does it concern us which was the elder of the 
two, Homer or Hesiod; or which was the taller, Helen or 
Hecuba? We take a great deal of pains to trace Klysses in 
his wanderings; but were it not time as well spent to look 
to ourselves, that we may not wander at all? 

18. Are not we ourselves tossed with tempestuous passions? 
and both assaulted by terrible monsters on the one hand, and 
tempted by syrens on the other? Teach me my duty to my 
country, to my father, to my wife, to mankind What is it 
to itic whether Penelope was honest or not? teach me to know 
how to be so myself, and live according to that knowledge. 

19. What am i the better for putting so many parts toge¬ 
ther in music, and raising a harmony out of so many differ¬ 
ent tones? teach me to tune my affections, and to hoid con¬ 
stant to myself. Geometry teaches me the art of measuring 
acres; teach me to measure my appetites , and to know when C 
have enough; teach me to divide with my brother, and to re¬ 
joice in the prosperity of my neighbor. 

20. What can be more ridiculous than fora man to neglect 

his manners, and compose his style? “ Misfortunes,” in line, 

f< cannot be avoided; but. they may be sweetened, if not over¬ 
come! and our lives may be made happy by philosophy.” 

21. There seems to be so near an affinity betwixt wisdom y 
philosophy, and good counsels, that it is rather matter of cu¬ 
riosity than of profit to divide them; philosophy, being only a 
limited wisdom; a mi good counsels a communication of that 
wisdom, for the good of others, as well as of ourselves; and to* 
posterity, as well as to the present. 

22. Good counsel is the most needful service that we can 
do to mankind; and if we give it to many, it will be sure to 
profit some; for of many trials, some or other will undoubted¬ 
ly succeed. He that places a man in the possession of him¬ 
self, does a great tiling; for wisdom does not show itself so 
much in precept, as in life; in a firmness of mind and a mas¬ 
tery of appetite: it teaches us to do as well as to talk: and to 
make our words and actions all of a color. 

23. We may be sometimes earnest in advising, but not vi¬ 
olent and tedious. Few words, with gentleness and efficacy* 




82 


dre best: the misery is, that the wise do not need' counsel;, 
and fools will not take it. A good man, it is true, delights in 
it; and it is a mark of folly and ill-nature to hate reproof. 
To a friend I would be always frank and plain; and rather 
fail in the success, than be wanting in the matter of faith and 
trust. 


SECTION VII. 

NO FELICITY LIKE PEACE OF CONSCIENCE. 

1. “A good conscience is the testimony of a good life, and 
the reward of it.” This is it that fortifies the mind against 
fortune, when a man has gotten the mastery of his passions; 
placed his treasure and security within himself; and learned 
to be content with his condition. ^ 

2 He that has dedicated his mind to virtue, and to the 
good of human society, whereof he is a member, has consum¬ 
mated the establishment of his peace. Every man has^a judge 
and a witness within himself, of all the good and ill that he 
does, which inspires us with great thoughts, and administers 
to us wholesome counsels. 

3. To see a man fearless in dangers, happy in adversity, 
composed in a tumult, and laughing at all those things which , 
are generally either covetted or feared; all men must acknow¬ 
ledge that this can be nothing else but a beam of divinity that 
influences a mortal body. A great, a good, and a right mind, 
is a kind of divinity lodged in flesh, and may be the blessing 
of a slave as well as of a prince. 

4. A good conscience fears no witness, but a guilty consci¬ 
ence is solicitous even in solitude. If we do nothing but 
what is honest, let all the world know it; but if otherwise, 
what does it signify to have nobody else know it, so long as 
I know it myself? Miserable is he that slights that witness! 

5. Wickedness, it is true, may escape the law, but not the 
conscience: for a private conviction is the first and the great¬ 
est punishment of offenders; so that sin plagues itself; and 
the fear of vengeance pursues even those that escape the 
stroke of it. It were ill for good men that iniquity may so 
easily evade the law, the judge, and the execution, if Nature 
had not set up torments and gibbets in the consciences of 
transgressors. 

6. He that is guilty lives in perpetual terror; and while he 
expects to be punished, he punishes himself; and whosoever 




88 


deserves it expects it. What if he be not detected? lie is still 
in apprehension yet that he may be. His sleeps are painful, 
and never secure; and he cannot speak of another man’s wick¬ 
edness without thinking of his own; whereas a good con¬ 
science is a continual feast. 

7. Those are the only certain and profitable delights, which 
arise from the consciousness of a well acted life; no matter 
for noise abroad, so long as we are quiet within: but if our 
passions be seditious, that is enough to keep us waking with¬ 
out any other tumult. 

8. It is dangerous fora man too suddenly, or too easily to 
believe himself. Wherefore let us examine, watch, observe, 
and inspect our own hearts; for we ourselves are our own 
greatest flatterers: we should every night call ourselves to 
account: “ What infirmity have I mastered to-day? what pas¬ 
sion opposed? what temptation resisted? what virtue acquir¬ 
ed?” 

9. Our vices will abate of themselves, if they be brought 
every day to the shrift. Oh the blessed sleep that follows 
such a diary! Oh the tranquillity, liberty, and greatness of 
that mind that is a spy upon itself, and a private censor of its 
own manners! It is my custom every night, so soon as the 
candle is out, to run over all the words and actions of the 
past day; and l let nothing escape me. 

10. A good man can never be miserable, nor a wicked man 
happy. There is not in the scale of nature, a more insepara¬ 
ble connexion of cause and effect, than in the case of happiness 
and virtue; nor any thing that more naturally produces the 
one, or more necessarily presupposes the other. 

11. For what is it to be happy, but for a man to content him¬ 
self with his lot, in a cheerful and quiet resignation to the ap¬ 
pointments of God? All the actions of our lives ought to be 
governed with respect to good and evil; and it is only reason 
that distinguishes. It is every man’s duty to make himself 
profitable to mankind: if he can, to many; if not to fewer; if 
not to neither, to his neighbor; but, however, to himself. 

SECTION VIII. 

THE DUE CONTEMPLATION OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE IS A REME¬ 
DY AGAINST ALL MISFORTUNES. 

1. Whoever observes the world, and the order of it, will 
find all the motions in it, to be only the vicissitudes of falling, 



84 




and rising; nothing extinguished, and even those things which 

seems to us to perish, are in truth but changed. 

2 . The seasons go and return, day and night follow in tiieii 
courses, the heavens roll, and nature goes on with her work 
all things succeed in their turns, storms and calms; the law 
of nature will have it so, which we must follow and obey, ac 
counting all things that are done to be well done: so tnat wha 
we cannot mend w r e must suffer, and wait upon Providence 
without repining. 

3 . It is the part of a cowardly soldier to follow his com 

mander groaning; but a generous man delivers himself up to 
God without struggling; and it is only for a narrow mind t< 
condemn the order of the world, and to propound rather flu 
mending of nature than of himself. j 

4 . In the very methods of nature we cannot but observe tin 
regard that Providence had to the good of mankind, even it 
the disposition of the world, in providing so amply tor oil 
maintenance and satisfaction. It is not possible for us t 
comprehend what the Power is which has made ail tilings 
some few sparks of that Divinity are discovered, but infinite 
ly the greater part of it lies hid. We are all of us however 
thus far agreed, first, in the acknowledgement and belief o j 
that Almighty Being; and, secondly, that we are to ascribe 
to it all majesty and goodness. 

5. Fabricius took more pleasure in eating the roots of hi 
own planting than in all the delicacies of luxury and expense 
Prudence and religion are above accidents, and draw good on 
of every thing; affliction keeps a man in use, and makes hiu 
strong, patient, and hardy. 

6 . Providence treats us like a generous father, and bring 
us up to labors, toils, and dangers; whereas the indulgence o 
a fond mother makes us weak and spiritless. No man cai 
be happy that does not stand firm against all contingencies. 


SECTION IX. 

OF LEVITY OF MIND, AND OTHER IMPEDIMENTS OF A HAPPY LIFI 

1. Now, to sum up what is already delivered, we hav 
showed what happiness is, and wherein it consists; that it i 
' founded upon wisdom and virtue; for we must first knov 
what we ought to do, and then live according to that know 
Pledge. 















85 


5. VV'e have also discoursed the helps of philosophy and 
precepts towards a happy life; the blessing of a good con¬ 
science; that a good man can never be miserable, nor a wicked 
man happy; nor any man unfortunate that cheerfully submits 
fo Providence. We shall now examine, how it comes to pass 
that, when the certain way to happiness lies so fair before us, 
men will yet steer their course on the other side, which as 
manifestly leads to ruin. 

3. There are some who live without any design at all, and 
only pass in the world like straws upon a river; they do not 
go, but they are carried. Some there are that torment them¬ 
selves afresh with the memory of what is past: “ Lord! what 
did i endure? never was any man in my condition; every 
body gave me over; iny very heart was ready to break,” &c. 

4. Others, again, alllict themselves with the apprehension 
of evils to come; and very ridiculously both: for the one does 
not now concern us, and the other not yet: beside that, there 
may be remedies for mischiefs likely to happen. 

5. Levity of mind is a great hindrance to repose; it is only 
philosophy that makes the mind invincible, and places us out 
of the reach of fortune, so that all her arrows fall short of us. 
This it is that reclaims the rage of our passions, and sweet¬ 
ens the anxiety of our fears. 

6. Place me among princes or among beggars, the one shall 
not make me proud, nor the other ashamed. I can take as 
sound a sleep in a barn as in a palace, and a bundle of hay 
makes me as good a lodging as a bed of down. I will not 
transport myself with either pain or pleasure; but yet for all 
that, I Could wish that 1 had an easier game to play, and that 
I were put rather to moderate my joys than my sorrows. 

7. Never pronounce any man happy that depends upon for¬ 
tune for his happiness; for nothing can be more preposterous 
than to place the good of a reasonable creature in unreason¬ 
able things. Iff have lost anything, it was adventitious; 
and the less money, the less trouble; the less favor the less 
envy. 

8. That which wc call our own is but lent us; and what we 
have received gratis we must return without complaint. 
That which fortune gives us this hour, she may take away the. 
next; and be that trusts to her favor, shall either find himself, 
deceived, or if he be not, he will at least be troubled, because 

tie may be so. . 

9. There is no defence in walls, fortifications, and engines 
against the power of fortune; we must provide ourselves 



86 


within, and when we are safe there, we are invincible; we 
may be battered, but not taken. She throws her shifts among j 
us, and we sweat and scuffle for them: never considering how ( 
few are the better for that which is expected by all. 

10. Some are transported with what they get; others tor- ! 
mented for what they miss; and many times there is a leg or 
an arm broken in a contest for a counter. She gives us hon-1 
ors, riches favors, only to take them away again, either by ' 
violence or treachery; so that they frequently turn to the da¬ 
mage of the receiver. 

11. But the best of it is, if a man cannot mend his fortune, i 

he may yet mend his manners, and put himself so *ar out of I 
her reach, that whether she gives or takes, it shall be all one 
to us; for we are nether the greater for the one, nor the less 
for the other. - 

SECTION X. 

A SENSUAL LIFE IS A MISERABLE LIFE. 

1. The sensuality that we here treat of falls naturally un¬ 
der the head of luxury; which extends to all excesses of glut¬ 
tony, effeminacy of manners; and, in short, to whatsoever 
concerns the over-great care of the body. 

2. To begin now with the pleasures of the palate, (which 
deal with us like Egyptian thieves, that strangle those they 
embrace,) what shall we say of the luxury of Nomentagus and' 
Apicius that entertained their very souls in the kitchen; 
they have the choicest music for their ears; the most diverting 
spectacles for their eyes; the choicest variety of meals and 
drinks for their palate 

3. What is all this, I say, but a merry madness? It is true 
they have their delights, but not without heavy and anxious 
thoughts, even in their very enjoyments; beside that, they 
are followed with repentance, and their frolics are little more 
than the laughter of so many people out of their wits. 

4. They cross the seas for rarities, and when they have swal¬ 
lowed them, they will not so much as give them time to di¬ 
gest. Wheresover nature has placed men, she has provided 
them aliment: but we rather choose to irritate hunger by ex¬ 
pense, than to allay it at an easier rate. 

5. Our forefathers (by the force of whose virtues we are 
now supported in our vices) lived every jot as well as we, 
when they provided and dressed their own meat with their 
ow n bands; lodged upon the ground, and were not as yet come 
to the vanity of gold and gems; when they swore "by their 
earthen gods, and kept their oath, though they died for it. 




8 ? 


6. Let any rnan take a view of our kitchens, the number of 
our cooks, and the variety of our meats; will he not wonder to 
see so much provision made for one stomach? W'e have as 
many diseases as we have cooks or meats; and the service of 
the appetite is the study now in vogue. 

7. From these compounded dishes arise compounded dis¬ 
eases, which require compounded medicines. It is the same 
thing with our minds that it is with our tables; simple vices 
are curable by simple counsels, but a general dissolution of 
manners is hardly overcome; we are overrun with a public as 
well as with a private madness. 

8. The physicians of old understood little more than the 
virtue of some herbs to stop blood, or heal a wound; and their 
firm and healthful bodies needed little more before they were 
corrupted by luxury and pleasure; and when it came to that 
once, their business was not to allay hunger, but to provoke it 
by a thousand inventions and sauces. So long as our bodies 
were hardened with labor, or tired with exercise or hunting, 
our food was plain and simple; many dishes have made many 
diseases. 

9. It is an ill thing for a man not to know the measure of 
his stomach, nor to consider that men do many things in their 
drink that they are ashamed of sober; drunkenness being no¬ 
thing else but a voluntary madness, it emboldens men to do 
all sorts of mischief; it both irritates wickedness and discov¬ 
ers it 

10. It was in a drunken fit that Alexander killed Clytus. 
It makes him that is insolent prouder, him that is cruel fier¬ 
cer; it takes away all shame. He that is peevish breaks out 

j presently into all ill words and blows. 

i 1. Luxury steals on.us by degrees; first it shows itself in 
a more than ordinary care of our bodies, it slips next into the 
furniture of our house; and it gets then into the fabric, cu¬ 
riosity, and expense of the house itself. It appears, lastly, 
in the fantastical excesses of our tables. 

12. The most miserable mortals are they that deliver them¬ 
selves up to their palates, or to their passions: the pleasure is 
short, and turns presently nauseous, and the end of it is ei¬ 
ther shame or repentance. It is a brutal entertainment, and 
unworthy of a man, to place his felicity in the service of his 
senses?. 

13. What a deal of business is now made about our houses 
and diet, which were at first of little expense? Luxury led 




88 


the way, and we have employed our wits in the aid of our 
vices. First, we desired superfluities, our next step wag to 
wickedness, and, in conclusion, we delivered up our minds to 
our bodies, and so became slaves to our appetites, which be¬ 
fore were our servants, and are now become our masters. 
What was it that brought us to the extravagance of embroid- 
eries, perfumes, tire-women, &c. 

1-4. We passed the bounds of nature, and lashed out into su¬ 
perfluities; insomuch, that it is now a-days only for beggars 
and clowns to content themselves with what is sufficient; our 
luxury makes us insolent and mad. How long shall we covet , 
and oppress, enlarge our possession, and account that too lit- j 
tie for one man which was formerly enough fora nation? And j 
our luxury is as insatiable as our avarice. Where is that lake, 
that sea, that forest, that spot of land, that is not ransacked 
to gratify our palate? 

15. The very earth is burdened with our buildings; not a 
river, not a mountain, escapes us. Oh, that there should be 
such boundless desires in our little bodies! Would not fewer 
lodgings serve us? We lie but in one, and where we are not, 
that is not properly ours. What with our hooks, snares, nets, 
dogs, &c. we are at war with all living creatures; and nothing 
comes amiss but that which is either too cheap, or too com¬ 
mon; and all this is to gratify a fantastical palate. 

16. Whatsoever is laid upon us by necessity, we should re¬ 
ceive generously; for it is foolish to strive with what we can¬ 
not avoid. We are born subjects, and to obey God is perfect 
liberty. He that does this shall be free, safe, and quiet. De¬ 
liver me from the superstition of taking those things which 
are light and vain, for felicities. 


SECTION XI. 

AVARICE AND AMBITION ARE INSATIABLE AND RESTLESS. 

. 

1. Neither does avarice make us only unhappy in our¬ 
selves, but malevolent also to mankind. The soldier wishes 
for war; the husbandman would have his corn dear; the law¬ 
yer prays for dissension; the physician for a sickly year; he 
that deals incuriosities, for luxury and excess; for he makes 
up his fortunes out of the corruptions of the age. 

2. To proceed now from the most prostitute of all vices, 
sensuality and avarice, to that which passes in the world for 
the most generous, the th'pstof glory and dominion. If they 





89 


that run mad after wealth and honor, could but look into the 
hearts of them that have already gained these points, how 
would it startle them to see those hideous care- and crimes 
that wait upon ambitious greatness: all those acquisitions that 
dazzle the eyes of the vulgar are but false pleasures, slippe¬ 
ry and uncertain. They are achieved with labor, and the 
very guard of them is painful. 

5. He that had subdued so many princes and nations, up¬ 
on the killing of Clytus (one friend) and the loss of Hyphes- 
tion (another,) delivered himself up to anger and sadness: 
and when he was master of the world, he was yet a slave to 
his passions. Look into Cyrus, Cambyses, and the whole 
Persian line, and you shall not find so much as one man of 
them that died satisfied with what he had gotten. 

4. Ambition aspires from great things to greater; and pro¬ 
pounds matters even impossible, when it has at once arrived 
at things beyond expectation. It is a kind of dropsy; the 
more a man drinks, the more he covets. But all superfluities 
are hurtful. 


SECTION XII. 

THE BLESSINGS OF TEMPERANCE AND MODERATION. 

1. There is not any thing that is necessary to us but we 
have it either cheap or gratis: and this is the provision that 
our heavenly Father has made for us, whose bounty was ne¬ 
ver wanting to our needs. It is true, the appetite craves and 
calls upon us, but then a small matter contents it. 

2. As for meat, clothes, and lodging, a little feeds the bo¬ 
dy, and as little covers it; so that if mankind would only at¬ 
tend human nature, without gaping at superfluities, a cook 
would be found as needless as a soldier: for we may have ne¬ 
cessaries upon very easy terms; whereas, we put ourselves 
to great pains for excesses. 

3 It is pride and curiosity that involves us in difficulties: 
if nothing will serve a man but rich clothes and furniture, 
statues and plate, a numerous train of servants, and the ra¬ 
rities of all nations, it is not fortune’s fault, but his own, 
that he is not satisfied; for his desires are insatiable, and 
this is not a thirst, but a disease. 

4. While nature lay in common, and all her benefits were 
promiscuously enjoyed, what could be happier that the state 
of mankind, when people lived without avarice or envy? 

* 8 





90 


3. Happy is that man that eats only for hunger, and 
drinks only for thirst; that stands upon his own legs, and 
lives by reason, not example; and provides for use and neces¬ 
sity, not for ostentation and pomp. Let us curb our appe¬ 
tites, encourage virtue, and rather be beholden to ourselves 
for riches, than to fortune; who, when a man draws himself 
into a narrow compass, has the least mark at him. 

6. Let my bed be plain and clean, and my clothes so too; 
my meat without much expense, or many waiters, and neither 
a burden to my purse nor to my body. That which is too lit? 
tie for luxury, is abundantly enough for nature# 


SECTION XIII. 

CONSTANCY OF MINT) GIVES A MAN REPUTATION, AND MAKES 
HIM HAPPY IN DESPITE OF ALL MISFORTUNE. 

1. We have examples in all ages, and in all oases, of great 
men that have triumphed over all misfortune. Metellus suf¬ 
fered exile resolutely, Rutilius cheerfully; Socrates disputed 
in the dungeon; and though he might have made his escape, 
refused it; to show the world how easy a thing it was to sub¬ 
due the two great terrors of mankind, death and a jail. 

2. Let us but consult history, and we shall find, even in the 
most effeminate of nations, and the most dissolute of times, 
men of all degrees, ages, and fortunes, nay, even women 
themselves, that have overcome the fear of death: which i» 
truth, is so little to be feared, that duly considered, it ig one 
of the greatest benefits of nature. 

3. If we turn our backs once, we are routed and pursued; 
that man only is happy that darws good out of evil, that 
stands fast in his judgment, and unmoved with any external 
violence; or however, so little moved, that the keenest ar¬ 
row in the quiver of fortune is but as the prick of a needle 
to him rather than a wound; and all her other weapons fall 
upon him only as hail upon the roof of a house, that crackles 
and skips off again, without any damage to the inhabitant. 

4. Not that I pretend to exempt a wise man out of the 
number of men, as if ne had no sense of pain; but I reckpn 
him as compounded of body and soul; the body is irrational, 
and may be galled, burnt, tortured; but the rational part is 
Earless, invincible, and not to be shaken. 



91 


5. Whatsoever is necessary, we most bear patiently, k 
is no new thing to die, no new thing to mourn, and no new 
thing to be merry again. Must I be poor? I shall have com¬ 
pany: If I die, 1 shall be no more sick; and it is a thing I can¬ 
not do but once. 

6. Let us never wonder at any thing we are born to; for no 
man has reason to complain, where we are all in the same 
condition. He that escapes might have suffered; and it i9 
but equal to submit to the law of mortality. We must under¬ 
go the colds of winter, the heats of summer: the distemper of 
the air, and the diseases of the body. 

7. A wild beast meets us in one place, and a man that is 
more brutal in another: we are here assaulted by fire, there 
by water. Demetrius was reserved by Providence for the 
age he lived in, to show, that neither the times could corrupt 
him, nor he reform the people. It is the part of a great 
mind to be temperate in prosperity, resolute in adversity, and 
to prefer a mediocrity to an excess. 


SECTION XIV. 

OUR HAPPINESS DEPENDS IN A GREAT MEASURE UPON THE 
CHOICE OF OUR COMPANY. 

1. The comfort of life depends upon conversation. Good 
offices, and concord, and human society, is like the working 
of an arch of stone, all would fall to the gronnd if one piece 
did not support another. Above all things let us have a ten¬ 
derness for blood; and it is yet too little not to hurt, unless 
we profit one another. 

2 . We are to relieve the distressed; to put the wanderer in¬ 
to his way; and to divide our bread with the hungry: which 
is but the doing of good to ourselves; for we are only several 
members of one great body. 

5. Nay, we are all of a consanguinity; formed of the same 
materials, and designed to the same end; this obliges us to a 
mutual tenderness and converse; and the other, to live with 
a regard to equity and justice. The love of society is natu¬ 
ral; but the choice of our company is matter of virtue and 

prudence. . 

4. Noble examples stir us up to noble actions; ana the 
very history of large and public souls, inspires a man with 
generous thoughts. It makes a man long to be in action, ant) 



92 


doing something that the world may be the better for; as 
protecting the weak, delivering the oppressed, punishing 
the insolent. 

5. As an ill air may endanger a good constitution, so may 
a place of ill example endanger a good man. Nay, there 
are some places that have a kind of privilege to be licentious; 
and where luxury and dissolution of manners seem to be 
lawful; for great examples give both authority and excuse to 
wickedness. Those places are to be avoided as dangerous 
to our manners. Hannibal himsel was unmanned by the 
looseness of Campania; and though a conqueror by his arms, 
he was overcome by his pleasures. 

6. The best conversation is with the philosophers; that is 
to say, with such of them as teach us matter, not words; 
that preach to us things necessary, and keep us to the prac¬ 
tice of them. The best way is to retire, and associate only 
with those that may be the better for us, and we for them. 
These respects are mutual; for while we teach, we learn. To 
deal freely, I dare not trust myself in the hands of much 
company; I never go abroad that X come home again the same 
man 1 went out. 


SECTION XV. 

THE BLESSINGS OF FRIENDSHIP. 

1. Of all felicities, the most charming is that of ajirmand 
gentle f riendship. It sweetens all our cares, dispels our sor¬ 
rows, and counsels us in all extremities. Nay, if there were 
no other comfort in it than the bare exercise of so generous a 
virtue, even for that single reason, a man would not be 
without it. 

2. But we are not yet to number our friends by the visits 
that are made us; and to confound the decencies of ceremo¬ 
ny and commerce with the offices of united affections . The 
great difficulty rests in the choice of him: that is to say, in 
the first place, let him be virtuous, for vice is contagious, and 
there is no trusting of the sound and the sick together; and he 
ought to be a wise man too if a body knew where to find him; 
but in this case, lie that is least ill is best. 

3. That friendship where men’s affections are cemented by 
an equal and by a common love of goodness, it is not either 
hope or fear, or any private interest, that can ever dissolve 




03 


it; hut we can y it with us to our graves, and lay down our 
lives for it with satisfaction. 

4. Paulina^ good and mine were so wrapped up together* 
that in consulting her comfort I provided for my own; and 
when I could not prevail upon her to take less care for me, 
she prevailed upon me to take more care for myself. 

5. Put let us have a care, above all things, that our kind¬ 
ness be rightfully founded; for where there is any other invi¬ 
tation to friendship than the friendship itself, that friendship 
will be bought and sold. lie derogates from the majesty of 
it, that makes it only dependent upon good fortune. 

6. ft is a narrow consideration for a man to please himself 
in the thought of a friend, “ because,” says he, “ I shall have 
one to help me when I am sick, in prison, or in want.” A 
brave man should rather take delight in the contemplation of 
doing the same offices for another. 

7. He that loves a man for his own sake, is in an error. A 
friendship of interest cannot last any longer than the interest 
itself; and this is the reason that men in prosperity are so 
much followed, and when a man goes down the wind, nobody 
comes near him. Temporary friends will never stand the 
test. One man is forsaken for fear of profit, another is be¬ 
trayed. It is a negotiation, not a friendship, that lias an eye 
to advantages. 


SECTION XVI. 

HE THAT W OULD BE HAPPY MUST TAKE AN ACCOUNT OF HIS TIME 

1 . The shortness of life is the common complaint both of 
fools and philosophers; as if the time we have were not suf¬ 
ficient for our duties. Put it is with our lives as with our 
estates, a good husband makes a little go a great way*, where¬ 
as, let the revenue of a prince fall into the hands of a prodi¬ 
gal, it is gone in a moment. 

2 . So that the time allotted us, if it were well employed, 
were abundantly enough to answer all the ends and purposes 
of mankind. You shall have some people perpetually play¬ 
ing with their fingers, whistling, humming, and talking to 
themselves; and others consume their days in the composing, 
hearing, or reciting of songs and lampoons. 

3 . How many precious mornings do we spend in consulta¬ 
tion with barbers, tailors, and tire-women, patching and paint¬ 
ing, betwixt the comb and the glassr I he truth is, we aie 



more solicitous about our dress than our manners, and about 
the order of our perriwigs than that of the government. 

4. While we are young, we may learn; our minds are 
tractable, and our bodies fit for labor and study; but when 
age comes on, we are seized with langor and sloth, afflicted 
with diseases, and at last we leave the world as ignorant 
as we came into it; ouly we die worse than we were born; 
which is none of nature’s fault, but ours? for our fears, sus- 
spicions, perfidy, &c, are from ourselves. 

5. 1 wish, with all r / soul, that I had thought, of my end 
sooner, but I must make the more haste now, and spur on, 
like those that set out late upon a journey; it will be better 
to learn late than not at all, though it be but only to instruct 
me how I may leave the stage with honor. 

6. What greater folly can there be in the world than this 
loss of time, the future being so uncertain, and the damages- 
so irreparable? There is nothing that we can properly call 
our own but our time, and yet every body fools us out of it 
that has a mind to it. 

7. He that takes away a day from me, takes away what 
he can never restore me. But our time is either forced away 
from us, or stolen from us, or lost; of which the last is the 
foulest miscarriage. It is in life as in a journey: a book or 
a companion brings us to our lodging before we thought we 
were half way. 


SECTION NVir. 

HAPPY IS THE MAN THAT MAY CHOOSE HIS OWN BUSINESS, 

1. Oh the blessings of privacy and leisure! The wish of 
the powerful and eminent, but the privilege only of inferiors; 
who are the only people that live to themselves, A wise 
man is never so busy as in the solitary contemplation of God 
and the works of nature. He withdraws himself to attend 
the service of future ages: and those counsels which he finds 
salutary to himself, he commits to writing for the good of 
after times, as we do the receipts of sovereign antidotes or 
balsams. 

2. He that is well employed in his study, though he may 
seem to do nothing at all, does the greatest things of all 
others, in affairs both human and divine. To supply a friend 
with a sum of money, or give, my voice for an office, these are 





95 


unly private and particular obligations; but he that lays down 
precepts for the governing of uur lives and the moderating 
of our passions, obliges human nature not only in the pre¬ 
sent, but in all succeeding generations. 

3. He that would be at quiet, let him repair to his philo¬ 
sophy, a study that has credit with all sorts of men. The 
eloquence of the bar, or whatsoever else addresses to the 
people, is never without enemies; but philosophy minds its 
own business, and even the worst have an esteem for it. 
There can never he such a conspiracy against virtue, the 
world can never be so wicked, but the very name of a phi* 
losopher shall still continue venerable and sacred. 

4. It is not that solitude, or a country life, teaches inno¬ 
cence or frugality; but vice falls of itself, without witnesses 
and spectators, f\>r the thing it designs is to be taken notice 
of. Did ever any man put on rich clothes not to he seen? or 
spread the pemp of his luxury where nobody was to take 
notice of it? If it were not for admirers and spectators 
there would be no temptations to excess: the very keeping 
of us from exposing them cures us of desiring them, for va¬ 
nity and intemperance are fed with ostentation. 

5. We cannot call these people men of leisure that are 
wholly taken up with their pleasures. A troublesome life is 
much to be preferred before a slothful one; and it is a strange 
thing, methinks, that any man should fear death that has bu¬ 
ried himself alive; as privacy, without letters, is but the bu¬ 
rying of a man quick. 

6. It is the part of a good patriot to prefer men of worth; 
to defend tne innocent; to provide good laws; and to advise 
in war and in peace. But is not he as good a patriot that in¬ 
structs youth in virtue; that furnishes the world with pre¬ 
cepts of morality, and keeps human nature witin the bounds 
of right reason? Who is the greater man, he that pronounces 
a sentence upon the bench, or he that in his study reads us 
a lecture of justice, piety, patience, fortitude, and the bless¬ 
ing of a good conscience? 

SECTION XVIII. 

AQAINST IMMODERATE SORROW FOR THE DEATH OF FRIENDS. 

1. To lament the death of a friend is both natural and just; 
a sigh or a tear I would allow to his memory; but no profuse 
or obstinate sorrow'. 



96 


2. But do I grieve tor my friend’s sake, or for my own. 
We are apt to say, “ What would I give to see him again, and 
to enjoy his conversation' I was never sad in his company; 
iny heart leaped whenever I met him; I want him wherever 
I go.” All that is to be said is, “The greater the loss, the 
greater is the virtue to overcome it.” 

If grieving will do no good, it is an idle thing to grieve; 
and if that which has befallen one man remains to all, it is 
as unjust to complain. The whole world is upon the inarch 
towards the same point; why do we not cry for ourselves 
that are to follow, as well as for him that is gone first? Why 
do we not as well lament beforehand for that which we know 
will be, and cannot poosibly but be. 


SECTION XIX. 

MEDIOCRITY THE BEST STATE OF FORTUNE 

1. All I desire is, that my poverty may not be a burden 
to myself, or make me so to others; and that is the best state 
of fortune that is neither directly necessitous, nor far from 
it. A mediocrity of fortune, with a gentleness of mind, will 
preserve us from fear of envy; which is a desirable condition, J 
for no man wants power to do mischief. We never consi¬ 
der the blessing of coveting nothing, and the glory of being j 
full in ourselves, without depending upon fortune. 

2. With parsimony, a little is sufficient; and without it, 
nothing; whereas frugality makes a poor man rich. If we 
lose an estate, we had better never have had it; ho that has 
least to lose, has least to fear; and those are better satisfied 
whom fortune never favoured, than those whom she has for¬ 
saken. 

3. The state is most commodious that lies betwixt pover¬ 
ty and plenty. Diogenes understood this Very well, when 
he put himself into an incapacity of losing any thing. That 
course of life is most commodious which is both safe and 
wholesome; the body is to be indulged no farther than for I 
health; and rather mortified than not kept in subjection to 
the mind. 

4. It is necessary to provide against hunger, thirst, and 
cold; and somewhat for a covering to shelter us against other 
inconveniences; but not a pin-matter whether it be of turf 
or of marble. A man may lie as warm and as dry under a 



97 


thatched as under a gilded roof. Let the mind be great and 
glorious, and all other things are despicable in comparison. 
" The future is uncertain; and I had rather beg of myself 
not to desire any thing, than of fortune to bestow it.” 


ABRIDGEMENT OF SENECA’S TREATISE ON ANGER. 

SECTION XX. 

ANGER DESCRIBED; IT IS AGAINST NATURE. 

1 We are here to encounter the most outrageous, brutal, 
dangerous, and intractable of all passions; the most loath¬ 
some and unmannerly; nay, the most ridiculous too; and the 
subduing of this monster will do a great deal toward the 
establishment of human peace. 

2. Jlnger is the desire, not the power and faculty of re¬ 
venge: Reason deliberates before it judges; but anger passes 
sentence without deliberation. Reason only attends the mat¬ 
ter in hand; but anger is startled at every accident: it passes 
the bounds of reason, and carries it away with it. 

3. In short, “ anger is an agitation of the mind that pro¬ 
ceeds to the resolution of a revenge, the mind assenting to it.” 
Rut anger may undoubtedly be overcome by caution and good 
counsel; for it is a voluntary vice, and not of the condition 
of those accidents that befall us as frailties of our human¬ 
ity'- 

4. It is an idle thing to pretend that we cannot govern our 
anger; for some things that we do are much harder than 
others that we ought to do; the wildest affections may be tam¬ 
ed by discipline, and there is hardly any thing which the 
mind will do but it may do. There needs no more argument 
in this case than the instance of several persons, both power¬ 
ful and impatient, that have got the absolute mastery of them¬ 
selves in this point. 

5. Thrasippus, in his drink, fell foul upon the cruelties of 
Pisistratus; who, when lie was urged by several about him to 
make an example of him, returned this answer, “ Why should 
I be angry with a man that stumbles upon me blindfold?” 

6. The moderation of Antigonus was remarkable. Some 
of his soldiers were railing at him one night, where there was 
but a hanging betwixt them. Antigonus overheard them, and 
putting it gently aside, “ Soldiers,” says he, “stand a little 
•farther off', for fear the king should hear you.” 

t. And we are to consider, not only violent examples,, but 
0 



98 


moderate, where there wanted neither cause of displeasure 
nor power of revenge: As in the case of Antigonus, who, the 
same night hearing his soldiers cursing him for bringing them 
into so foul a way, he went to them, and without telling them 
who he was, helped them out of it. “ Now,” says he, “ you 
may be allowed to curse him that brought you into the mire, 
provided you bless him that took you out of it.” 

8. It was a strong provocation that which was given to 
Philip of Macedon, the father of Alexander. The Athenians 
sent their ambassadors to him, and they were received with 
this compliment, “ Tell me, gentlemen,” says Philip, “what 
is there that I can do to oblige the Athenians?” Democharas, 
one of the ambassadors, told him, that they would take it for 
a great obligation if he would be pleased to hang himself. 

9. This insolence gave an indignation to the bystanders; 
but Philip bade them not to meddle with him, but even to let 
that foul mouthed fellow go as he came. “ And for you, the 
rest of the ambassadors,” says he, “ pray tell the Athenians, 
that it is worse to speak such things than to hear and forgive 
them.” This wonderful patience under contumelies was a 
great means of Philip’s security. 

SECTION XXI. 

ANGER IS A SHORT MADNESS; AND A DEFORMED VICE. 

1. He was much in the right, whoever it was, that first call¬ 
ed anger a short madness; for they have both of them the 
same symptoms; and there is so wonderful a resemblance be¬ 
twixt the transports of choler and those of phrenzy, that it is 
a hard matter to know the one from the other. 

2. A bold, fierce, and threatening countenance, as pale as 
ashes, and, in the same moment, as red as blood; a glaring 
eye, a wrinkled brow, violent motions, the hands restless and 
perpetually in action, wringing and menacing, snapping ot 
the joints, stamping with the feet, the hair starting, trembling 
lips, a forced and squeaking voice; the speech false and brok¬ 
en, deep and frequent sighs, and ghastly looks; the veins 
swell, the heart pants, the knees knock; with a hundred dis¬ 
mal accidents that are common to both distempers. 

3. Neither is anger a bare resemblance only of madness, 
but many times an irrevocable transition into the thing itself. 
How many persons have we known, read, and heard of, that 
have lost their wits in a passion, and never came to themselves 









99 


again? It is therefore to be avoided, not only for moderation’s 
sake, but also for health. 

4. Now, if the outward appearance of anger be so foul and 
hideous, how deformed must that miserable mind be, that is 
harassed with it? for it leaves no place either for counsel or 
friendship, honesty or good manners; no place either for the 
exercise of reason, or for the offices of life. 

5 If L were to describe it, I would draw a tiger bathed in 
blood, sharp teeth, and ready to take a leap at his prey; or 
dress it up as poets represent the furies, with whips, snakes, 
and flames; it should be sour, livid, full of scars, and wallow¬ 
ing in gore, raging up and down, destroying, grinning, bellow¬ 
ing, and pursuing; sick of all other things, and most of all it¬ 
self. It turns beauty into deformity, and the calmest coun¬ 
sels into fierceness: it disorders our very garments, and fills 
the mind with horror. 

6. How abominable is it in the soul then, when it appears 
so hideous even through the bones, the skin, and so many im¬ 
pediments? Is he not a madman that has lost the govern¬ 
ment of himself, and is tossed hither and thither by his fury, 
as by a tempest? the executioner and the murderer of his near¬ 
est friends? The smallest matter moves it, and makes us in¬ 
sociable and inaccessible. It does all things by violence, as 
well upon itself as others; and it is, in short, the master of all 
passions. 

7. A vice that carries along with it neither pleasure nor pro¬ 
fit, neither honor nor security; but on the contrary, destroys 
us to all the comfortable and glorious purposes of our reason¬ 
able being. Some there are, that will have the root of it to 
be the greatness of mind. 

8. And, why may we not as well entitle impudence to cour¬ 
age , whereas the one is proud, the other brave; the one is gra¬ 
cious and gentle, the other rude and furious? At the same 
rate, we may ascribe magnanimity to avarice, luxury, and 
ambition, which are all but splendid impotences, without mea¬ 
sure and without foundation. 

9. There is nothing great but what is virtuous, nor indeed 
truly great, but what is also composed and quiet. Anger, 
alas! is but a wild impetuous blast, an empty tumor, the very 
infirmity of children; a brawling, clamorous evil: and the more 
noise the less courage; as we find it commonly, that the bold¬ 
est tongues have the faintest hearts. 


100 


SECTION XXII. 

ANGER IS NEITHER WARRANTABLE NOR USEFUL. 

1. Til the first place, anger is unwarrantable, as it is unjust: 
for it falls many times upon the wrong person, and discharges 
itself upon the innocent instead of the guilty. 

2. Secondly, It is unsociable to the highest point; for it 
spares neither friend nor foe; but tears all to pieces, and casts 
human nature into a perpetual state of war. 

3. Thirdly, It is to no purpose. “ It is a sad thing,? we 
cry, “to put up these injuries, and we are notable to bear them;" 
as if any man that can bear anger could not bear an injury, 
which is much more supportable. Nor is it for the dignity of 
virtue to be either angry or sad. 

4. It is with a tainted mind as with an ulcer, not only the 
touch, but the very offer at it, makes us shrink and complain; 
when we come once to be carried off from our poise, we are 
lost. Besides, that the greatest punishment of an injury ij 
the consciousness of having done it; and no man suffers more 
than he that is turned over to the pain of a repentance. 

5. But M may not an honest man then be allowed to be an¬ 
gry at the murdering of his father, or the ravishing of his sis¬ 
ter or his daughter before his face?” No, not at all. I will 
defend my parents, and I will repel the injuries that are done 
them; but it is my piety, and not my anger, that moves me to 
it. I will do my duty without fear or confusion; I will not 
rage, I will not weep; but discharge the office of a good man 
without forfeiting the dignity of a man. 

6. If my father be assaulted, I will endeavour to rescue 
him; if he be killed, I will do right to his memory; and all 
this, not in any transport of passion, but in honor and consci¬ 
ence. Neither is there any need of anger where reason does 
the same thing. A man may be temperate, and yet vigorous, and 
raise his mind according to the occasion, more or less, as a 
stone is thrown according to the discretion and intent of the 
caster. 

7. If anger were sufferable in any case, it might be allowed 
against an incorrigible criminal under the hand of justice: 
but punishment is not matter of anger but of caution. The 
law is without passion, and strikes malefactors as we do ser¬ 
pents, and venomous creatures, for fear of greater mischief. 

8. It is not for the dignity of a judge, when he comes to 
pronounce the fatal sentence, to expross any motions of anger 


101 


m his look's, words or gestures; for he condemns the vice, 
not the man; and looks upon the wickedness without anger. 
Justice cannot be angry; nor is there any need of an angry 
magistrate for the punishment of foolish and wicked men. 
The power of life and death must not be managed with pas¬ 
sion. We give a horse the spur that is restiff or jadish, and 
tries to cast his rider: but this is without anger too, and only 
to take down his stomach, and bring him, by correction, to 
obedience. 

9. The end of all correction is either the amendment of 
wicked men, or to prevent the influence of ill example: for 
men are punished with a respect to the future; not to expiate 
offences committed, but for fear of worse to come. There are 
no greater slaves certainly, than those that serve anger; for 
they improve their misfortunes by an impatience more insup¬ 
portable than the calamity that causes it. 

10. Nor does itrise by degrees, as other passions, but flash¬ 
es like gun powder, blowing up all in a moment. Neither, 
does it only press to the mark but overbears every thing in 
the way to it. Other vices drive us, but this hurries us head¬ 
long; other passions stand firm themselves, though perhaps 
we cannot resist them; but this consumes and destroys itself; 
it falls like thunder or a tempest, with an irrevocable vio¬ 
lence, that gathers strength in the passage, and then evapor¬ 
ates in the conclusion. 

11. Other vices are unreasonable , but this is anhealthful 
too; other distempers have their intervals and degrees, but 
in this we are thrown down as from a precipice: there is not 
any thing so amazing to others, or so destructive to itself: so 
proud and insolent, if it succeeds, or so extravagant if it 
be disappointed. 

12. We find that elephants will be made familiar; bulls 
will suffer children to ride upon their backs, and play with 
their horns; bears and lions, by good usage, will be brought 
to fawn upon their masters; hfcw desperate a madness is it 
then for men, after the reclaiming the fiercest of beasts, and 
the bringing of them to be tractable and domestic, to become 
yet worse than beasts one to another? 

13. Alexander had two friends, Clytus and Lysimachus; 
the one he exposed to a lion, the other to himself; and he that 
was turned loose to the beast escaped. Why do we not ra¬ 
ther make the best of a short life, and render ourselves amia¬ 
ble to all while we live, anddesirable when we die? 

* 9 


102 


14. Fordoes any man know but that he that is now our 
enemy, may come hereafter to be our friend, over and above 
the reputation of clemency and good nature? And what can 
be more honorable or comfortable, than to exchange a feud 
for a friendship? 

15. But, however, if it be our fortune to transgress, let not 
our anger descend to the children, friends, or relations, even 
of our bitterest enemies. The very cruelty of Sylla was 
heightened by that instance of incapacitating the issue of 
the proscribed. It is inhuman, to entail the hatred we have A 
for the father, upon his posterity. 

16. A good and a wise man is not to be an enemy of wick¬ 
ed men, but a reprover of them; and he is to look upon all 
the drunkards, the licentious, the thankless, covetous, and 
ambitious, that he meets with, no otherwise than as a physi¬ 
cian looks upon his patients. Democritus laughed , and He¬ 
raclitus wept, at the folly and wickedness of the world, but we 
never read of an angry philosopher . 

17. To take a farther view, now, of the miserable conse¬ 
quences and sanguinary elfects of this hideous distemper; 
from hence come slaughters and poisons, wars, and desola¬ 
tions, the razing and burning of cities: the unpeopling of na¬ 
tions, and the turning of populous countries into deserts: ; 
public massacres and regicides: princes led in triumph: some 1 
murdered in their bed-chambers: others stabbed in the se¬ 
nate, or cut off in the security of their spectacles and plea¬ 
sures. 

18. It was a severe instance, that of Piso too. A soldier 
that had leave of absence to go abroad with his comrade, 
came back to the camp at his time, but without his com¬ 
panion. Piso condemns him to die, as if he had killed him, 
and appoints a centurion to see the execution. Just as the 
headsman was ready to do his office, the other soldier ap¬ 
peared, to the great joy of the whole field, and the centurion 
bade the executioner hold his hand. 

19. Hereupon Piso, in a rage, mounts the tribunal, and sen¬ 
tences all three to death; the one because he was condemned, 
the other because it was for his sake that his fellow-soldier 
was condemned , the centurion for not obeying the order of ids 
superior. An ingenious piece of inhumanity, to contrive 
how to make three criminals where effectually there were 
none. 

20. There was a Persian king that caused the noses of a 







103 


ivhole nation .to be be cut off, and they were to thank him 
that he spared their heads. And this, perhaps, would have 
been the fate of tile Macrobii, (if Providence had not hinder¬ 
ed it,) for the freedom they used to Cambvses’s ambassadors, 
in not accepting the slavish terms that were offered them. 

21. This put Cambyses into such a rage, that he presently 
enlisted into his service every man that was able to bear arms; 
and, without either provisions or guides, marched immediate¬ 
ly through dry and barren deserts, and where never any 
man had passed before him, to take his revenue. Before he 
was a third part of the way, his provisions failed him* 

22. His men, at first, made shift with the buds of trees, 
boiled leather, and the like; but soon after there was not so 
much as a root or a plant to he gotten, nor a living creature 
to be seen; and then by lot every tenth man was to die for a 
nourishment to the rest, which was still worse than the fa¬ 
mine. 

23. But yet this passionate king -went on so far, until one 
part of his army was lost, and the other devoured, and until 
he feared that he himself might come to be served with the 
same sauce. So that at last he ordered a retreat, wanting no 
delicates all this while for himself, while his soldiers were 
taking their chance who should die miserably, or live worse. 
Here was an anger taken up against a whole nation, that 
neither deserved any ill from him, nor was so much as known 
to him. 


SECTION XXIII. 

.ADVICE IN THE CASES OF CONTUMELY AND REVENGE. 

!. Of provocations to anger there are two sorts; there is 
an injury , and there is a contumely . The former, in its own 
nature, is the heavier; the other, slight in itself, and only 
troublesome to a wounded imagination. And yet some there 
are that will bear blows, and death itself, rather than con¬ 
tumelious words. A contumely is an indignity below the 
consideration of the very law; and not worthy either of a 
revenge, or so much as a complaint. 

2. It is only the vexation and infirmity of a weak mind, 
as weil as the practice of a haughty and insolent nature, 
and signifies no more to a wise and sober man than an idle 
dream, that is po sooner past than forgotten. It is true, it 



104 


implies contempt; but what needs any man care for being 
contemptible to others, if lie be not so to himself? 

3. It is a wretched condition to stand in awe of every bo¬ 
dy’s tongue; and whosoever is vexed at a reproach, would 
be proud if he were commended. We should look upon 
contumelies, slanders, and ill words, only as the clamor of 
enemies, or arrows shot at a distance, that make a clatter¬ 
ing upon our arms, but do no execution. 

4. A man makes himself less than his adversary by fan¬ 
cying* that he is contemned. Things are only ill that are ill- 
taken; and it. is not for a man of worth to think himself bet¬ 
ter or worse for the opinion of others. 

5. A physician is not angry at the intemperance of a mad 
patient; nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in a 
fever: just so should a wise man treat vicious men, as a phy¬ 
sician does his patient. In these cases, the rule is to par¬ 
don all offences, where there is any sign of repentance, or 
hope of amendment. It does not hold in injuries as in be¬ 
nefits, the requiting of the one with the other; for it is a 
shame to overcome in the one, and in the other to be overcome. 

6. It is the part of a great mind to despise injuries; and 
it is one kind of revenge to neglect a man as not worth it; 
for it makes the first aggressor too considerable. Our 
philosophy, methinks, might carry us up to the bravery of a 
generous mastiff*, that can hear the barking of a thousand 
curs without taking any notice of them. 

7. Fidus Cornelius (a tall, slim fellow,) fell down-right 
a crying in the senate house atCorbulo’s, saying that “he 
looked like an ostrich.” 

8. A careful education is a great matter; for our minds' 
are easily formed in our youth, but it is a harder business to 
cure ill habits. There is nothing breeds anger more than 
a soft and effeminate education; and it is very seldom seen 
that either the mother’s or the schoolmaster’s darling ever 
eomes to good. But my young master , when he comes into 
the world, behaves himself like a choleric coxcomb; for flat¬ 
tery, and a great fortune, nourish petulence. 

9 He that is naturally addicted to anger, let him use a 
moderate diet, and abstain from wine; for it is but adding 
fire to fire. So long as we are among men, let us cherish hu¬ 
manity, and so live that no man may be either in fear or in 
danger of us. 





105 


10. There is hardly a more effectual remedy against anger 
than patience and consideration. Nor is it fit that a servant 
should be in his power that is not his own master. Why 
should any one venture now to trust an angry man with a 
revenge, when Plato durst not trust himself? Either he must 
govern that, or that will undo him. 

11. It is a good caution not to believe any thing until we 
are very certain of it; for many probable things prove false, 
and a short time will make evidence of the undoubted truth. 
If it be my duty to love my country, I must be kind also to 
my countrymen; if a veneration be due to the whole, so is a 
piety also to the parts; and it is the common interest to 
preserve them. 

12. We are all members of one body, and it is as natural 
to help one another as for the hands to help the feet, or the 
eyes the hands. Without the love and care of the parts, the 
whole can never be preserved, and we must spare one ano¬ 
ther, because we are born for society, which cannot be main¬ 
tained without a regard to particulars. Let this be a rule 
to us, never to deny a pardon that does no hurt either to the 
giver or receiver. 

13. It is a kind of spiteful comfort, that whoever does me 
an injury may receive one; and that there is a power over 
him that is above me. A man should stand as firm against 
all indignities as a rock does against the waves. 

14. It is not prudent to deny a pardon to any man, without 
first examining if we stand not in need of it ourselves; for 
it may be our lot to ask it, even at his feet to whom we 
refuse it. But we are willing enough to do what we are 
very unwilling to suffer. It is unreasonable to charge pub¬ 
lic vices upon particular persons; for we are all of us wick¬ 
ed, and that which we blame in others we find in ourselves. 
It is not a paleness in one, or a leanness in another, but a 
pestilence that has laid hold upon all. 

lo. It is a wicked world, and we make part of it; and the 
way to be quiet is to bear one with another. “ Such a man,” 
we cry, “has done me a shrewd turn, and I never did him 
auy hurt.” Well, but it may be I have injured other people, 
or, at least, I may live to do as much to him as that comes to. 
“ Such a owe has spoken ill things of me;” but if l first speak 
ill of him, as I do of many others, this is not an injury, but a 
repayment. 


106 




16. Before we lay anything to heart, let us ask ourselves 
if we have not done the same thing to others. We carry our 
neighbors’ crimes in sight, and we throw our own over our j 
shoulders. We cry out presently, “ What law have we trans¬ 
gressed?” As if the letter of the law were the sum of our du¬ 
ty, and that piety, humanity, liberality, justice and faith, 
were things beside our business. 

17. No, no; the rule of human duty is of a greater lati¬ 
tude; and we have many obligations upon us that are not to j 
be found in the statute books. And, to wind up all in one 
word, the great lesson of mankind, as well in this as in all I 
other cases, is, “ to do as we would be done by.” 





PART FOURTH. 


ABRIDGEMENT OF THE LAW OF NATURE, AND THE ECONO¬ 
MY OF HUMAN LIFE. 


CHAPTER 1. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF THE LAW OF NATURE, OR PRINCIPLES OF MO¬ 
RALITY, DEDUCED FROM THE PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION OF 
MANKIND AND THE UNIVERSE. 

For, when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the 
things contained in the law, these having not the law, are a law unto 
themselves; which shovr the work of the law written in the»r hearts, their 
conscience also bearing them witness, and their thoughts the mean while 
accusing, or else excusing one another— Paul. 

SECTION 1. 

THE LAW OF NATURE DEFINED; AND ILLUSTRATED BY EXAMPLES. 

1. What is the law of nature? It is the regular and con¬ 
stant order of events according to which God rules the uni¬ 
verse; the order which his wisdom presents to the senses and 
reason of mankind, to serve them as an equal and general 
rule of action, and to conduct them without distinction of 
country or sect, towards happiness and perfection. 

2. Now, since the actions of each individual, or of each class 
of beings, are subject to constant and general rules, which 
cannot be departed from without changing and disturbing 
some general or particular order of things, to these rules of 
action and motion, is given the name of natural laws, or laws 
of nature. 

3. Give me examples of these laws? It is a law of nature 
that the sun enlightens in succession every part of the sur¬ 
face of the terrestrial globe: that his presence excites light 
and heat: that heat acting on the waters produces vapors: 
that these vapors raised in clouds into the higher regions of 
the atmosphere, form themselves into rain and snow, and sup¬ 
ply, without ceasing, the water of springs and rivers. 

4. It is a law of nature that water flows from an upper to 
a lower situation; that it seeks its level; that it is heavier than 
air; that all bodies tend towards the earth; that flame rises 










towards the sky; that it destroys the organization of vegeta¬ 
bles and animals; that air is essential to the life of certain 
animals; that in certain cases water suffocates and kills them; 
that certain juices of plants, and certain minerals, attack their 
organs, and destroy their life; and the same ol a variety of 
facts. 

5. Now, since these facts, and many similar ones are con¬ 
stant, regular, immutable, they become so many real and po¬ 
sitive commands to which man is bound to conform, under the 
express penalty of punishment attached to their infraction* 
or well-being connected with their observance. 

6. So that if a man were to pretend to see clearly in the 
dark, or is regardless of the progress of the seasons, or the 
action of the elements: if he pretends to exist under water 
without drowning; to handle fire without burning himself; 
to deprive himself of air without suffocating; or to drink 
poison without destroying himself, he receives from each in¬ 
fraction of the law of nature, a corporal punishment propor¬ 
tioned to his transgression. 

7. If, on the contrary, he observes these laws, and founds- 
his practice on the precise and regular relation which they 
bear to him, he preserves his existence, and renders it as hap¬ 
py as it is capable of being rendered; andsince all these laws, 
considered in relation to the human species, have in view 
only one common end, that of their preservation and their- 
happiness; whence it has been agreed to assemble together 
the different ideas, and express them by a single word, and 
call them collectively by the name of the law of nature . 


SECTION II. 

CHARACTERS OF THE LAW OF NATURE. 

1. What are the characters of the law of nature? We may 
reckon nine principal ones. What is the first? To be inher¬ 
ent in, and essential to the existence of things. What is the 
second? It is to emanate immediately from God, and to be by 
him offered to the contemplation of every man. What is the 
third? It is to be common to every time and country; that is, 
to be one and universal. 

2. What is the fourth character? That of being uniform 
and invariable. What is the fifth character? To be evident 
and palpable, since it consists wholly of facts ever present to 
our senses, and capable of demonstration. What is the sixth 





109 


character? To be reasonable; because its precepts, and its- 
whole doctrine, are conformable to reason, and agreeable to 
th t* hu m an u nd erstan d i ng. 

3. What is the seventh character? To be just, because in 
this law the punishment is proportioned to the transgression. 
W hat is the eighth character? To be pacific and tolerant; be¬ 
cause according to the law of nature, all men being brethren, 
and equal in rights, it advises all to peace and toleration, 
even for their errors. What is the ninth character of this 
lawr 1 o be equally beneficent to all men, and to teach them 
all the true method of being better and happier. 

4. If, as you assert, it emanates immediately from God, 
does it teach us his existence? Yes; very positively; for every 
man, who observes with attention, the astonishing scene of 
the universe, the more he meditates on the properties and at¬ 
tributes of each existence, and on the admirable order and 
harmony of their motions, the more will he be convinced that 
there is a supreme agent, a universal and identical mover, de¬ 
signed by the name God. 

5. Was the law of nature ever known before the present 
day? It has been spoken of in every age. The greater part 
ol lawgivers have pretended to make it the basis of their 
laws; but they Irave brought forward only a few of its pre¬ 
cepts, and have had hut vague ideas of it as a whole. 

ti. Why has this happened? Because, though it is simple in 
its basis, it forms in its development and its consequenses, 
a complicated aggregate which requires the knowledge of a 
number of fac ts, and the whole sagacity of reason, in order to 
be understood. 

7. Since the law of nature is not written, may it not be 
considered as arbitrary and ideal? No, because it consists al¬ 
together in facts, whose demonstration may be at any tune re¬ 
called before the senses, and form a science as precise and 
exact as those of geometry and mathematics: and this very 
circumstance, that the law of nature forms an exact science, 
is the reason why men, who are born in ignorance, and live in 
carelessness, have, till this day, known it only superficially. 


'10 


110 

SECTION III. 


THE PRINCIPLES OF THE LAW OF NATURE AS THEY RELATE TO 

man: IMPORTANCE OF INSTRUCTION AND SELF-GOVERN- I 

RENT. 

1. In what manner does nature command self-preserva¬ 
tion? By two powerful and involuntary sensations which 
she has attached as two guides or guardian genii to all our 
actions; one, the sensation of pain, by which she informs us 
of, and turns us from whatever tends to our destruction. 
The other, the sensation of pleasure, by which she attracts 
and leads us towards every thing that tends to our preserva¬ 
tion, and the unfolding of our faculties. 

2. But does not this prove that our senses may deceive us 
with respect to this end of self-preservation? Yes; they 
may for a time. How do our sensations deceive us ? In two 
ways; through our ignorance and our passions. When do 
they deceive us through our ignorance? When we act with¬ 
out knowing the action and effect of objects on our senses; 
for instance, when a man handles nettles without knowing 
their quality of stinging; or when he chews opium in igno¬ 
rance of its soporific properties. 

5. When do they deceive us through our passions? When, 
though we are acquainted with the hurtful action of objects, 
we, notwitstanding, give way to the violence of our desires 
and our appetites; for instance, when a man who knows tliat 
wine inebriates, drinks, notwithstanding, to excess. 

4. What results from these facts? The result is, that the 
ignorance in which we enter the world, and the inordinate 
appetites to which we give ourselves up, are opposed to our- 
self-preservation; that in consequence, the instruction of our 
minds, and the moderation of our passions, are two obliga¬ 
tions, or two laws, immediately derived from the first law of 
preservation. 

5. But if we are born ignorant, is not ignorance a part of 
the law of nature? No more than it is for us to remain in 
the naked and feeble state of infancy: far from its being a 
law of nature, ignorance is an obstacle in the way of all her 
laws. 

6. Whence then has it happened that moralists have exist¬ 
ed who considered it as a virtue and a perfection? Because 
through caprice, or misanthropy, they have confounded the 
abuse of our knowledge with knowledge itself; as though be- 





Ill 




cause men misemploy the faculty of speaking, it Were neces.- 
sary to cut out their tongue; as though perfection and virtue 
consisted in the annihilation, and not in the unfolding and 
proper employment of our faculties. 

7. Is instruction then necessarily indispensable for man’s 
existence? Yes; so indispensable, that without it. he must 
be every instant struck and wounded by all the beings which 
surround him; for if he did not know the effects of fire, he 
would burn himself; of water, he would be drowned; of opi¬ 
um, he would be poisoned. If in the savage state, he is un¬ 
acquainted with the cunning and subterfuges of animals, and 
the art of procuring game, he perishes with hunger: if in a 
state of society, lie does not know the progress oftheseasons, 
he can neither cultivate the earth, nor provide himself with, 
food: and the like may be said from all his actions arising 
from all his wants. 

8. What is the true meaning of the word philosopher? The 
word philosopher signifies lover of wisdom: now, since wis¬ 
dom consists in the practice of the laws of nature, that man 
is a true philosopher who understands these laws in their full 
extent, and, with precision, renders his conduct conformable 
to them. 

9. But does not this desire of self-preservation produce iu 
individuals egotism, that is, the love of self; and is not ego¬ 
tism abhorrent to the social state? No; for if by egotism is 
understood an inclination to injure others, it is no longer the 
love of self, but the hatred of our neighbor. The love of self, 
taken in its true sense, is not only consistent with a state of 
.society, but is likewise its firmest support; since weare under 
a necessity ol not doing injury to others, lest they should, in 
return, do injury to ourselves. 


- SECTION IV. 

.OF TIIK BASIS OF MORALITY; OF GOOD, OF EVIL, OF CRIMES, OF 
VICE AND VIRTUE* 

1. What is good, according to the law of nature? What¬ 
ever tends to preserve and ameliorate mankind. W hat is 
evil? Whatever tends to the destruction and deterioration 
of the human race. 

3. What is understood by physical good or evil, and moral 
good or evil? By the wordmeiUlt whatever acts 




112 


immediately upon the body; health is a physical good; sick¬ 
ness is a physical evil. By moral, is understood whatever is 
effected by consequences more or less remote: calumny is a 
moral evil; a fair reputation is a moral good, because both of 
them are the occasion of certain dispositions and habits in 
other men, with respect to ourselves* which are useful or pre¬ 
judicial to our well being, and which attack or contribute to 
the means of existence. 

3. The murder of a man, is it then a crime according to the 
law of nature? Yes; and the greatest that can be committed; 
for murder can never be done away. 

4. What is virtue according to the law of nature? The 
practice of actions which are useful to the individual and to 
society. 

5. What is vice according to the law of nature? It is the 
practice of actions prejudicial to the individual and to socie¬ 
ty. 

6. In what manner does the law of nature prescribe the 
practice of good and virtue, and forbid that of evil and of 
vice? By the moral and physical advantages resulting from 
the practice of good arid virtue, and the injuries whicn our 
very existence receives from the practice of evil and vice. 

7. What division do you make of the virtues? We divide 
them into three classes; 1st, Private virtues, or those which 
tSder to single and insulated persons; 2d, Domestic virtues, 
or those which relate to families; 3d, Social virtues, or those 
w hich respect society at large. 

SECTION V, 

UF INDIVIDUAL ORPRIVATK VIRTUES; av KNOWLEDGE, TEMPER¬ 
ANCE, INDUSTRY, CLEANLINESS. 

1. Which are the private virtues? There are four princi¬ 
pal ones: namely, know ledge; which comprehends prudence 
and wisdom. 2d. Temperance; which includes sobriety and 
chastity. 3d. Activity; that is, the love of labor, and a pro¬ 
per employment of our time. 4th. Lastly; cleanliness, or pu¬ 
rity of body, as well in our clothing, as in our dwellings. 

2. How does the law of nature prescribe to us the posses¬ 
sion of knowledge? In this way; The man who is acquainted 
with the causes and effects of things, provides in a very ex¬ 
tensive and certain marine/ for hw own preservation, and tiny 




c 


113 


development ot his faculties. Knowledge is for him, as it 
were light acting upon its appropriate organ, making him dis¬ 
cern all the objects which surround him, and in the midst of 
which he moves with precision and clearness. 

3. And for this reason, we used to say an enlightened man, 
to designate, a wise and well informed man. By the help of 
knowledge and information, we are never left without re¬ 
sources, and means of subsistence; and whence a philosopher, 
who had suffered shipwreck, observed justly to his compa¬ 
nions, who were lamenting the loss of their fortunes, “ As 
for me, I carry all my fortune in myself.” 

4. What is the vice opposed to knowledge? Ignorance. 
How does the law of nature forbid ignorance? By the great 
injury which our existence sustains from it; for the ignorant, 
who are unacquainted with either causes or effects, commit, 
every instant, mistakes the most pernicious to themselves or 
others; l.ke a blind man who walks groping his way, and who 
at every step stumbles against, or is jostled by his companions. 

5. What is prudence? An anticipated view, a foresight 
of effects, and the consequences of every event: a foresight 
by which a man avoids the dangers which threaten him, 
and seizes and raises up opportunities which are favorable: 
whence it appears that he provides, on a large and sure scale,, 
for his present and future conservation; while the imprudent 
man, who neither calculates his progress nor his conduct, 
the efforts required, nor the resistances to overcome, falls 
every moment into a thousand dufficulties and dangers, 
which more or less slowly destroy his faculties and his being. 

6. What is temperance? A well regulated employment 
of our faculties; which prevents our ever exceeding in our 
sensible pleasures the end of nature, self-conservation. It 
is the moderation of our passions. What is the vice op¬ 
posed to temperance? The want of government over our 
passions; an over-great eagerness to possess enjoyments: in 
a word, cupidity. What are the principal branches of tem¬ 
perance? Sobriety and chastity. 

7. In what manner does the law of nature enjoin sobriety? 
By its powerful influence over our health. The man of so¬ 
briety digests his food witn comfort; he is not oppressed by 
the weight of his aliment; his ideas are clear and easily im¬ 
pressed; he performs every function well; he attends with 
diligence to his business; he grows old free from sickness; 

■* 10 


114 


he does not throw away his money in remedies for disor¬ 
ders; he enjoys with gay good humor the goods which for¬ 
tune or prudence have procured for him. Thus does g<‘tie- 
rous nature make a thousand rewards flow from a single 
virtue. 

8. By what means does she prohibit gluttony? By the 
numerous evih attached to it. The glutton, oppressed by 
his aliment, digests with pain and difficulty; his head, dis¬ 
turbed by the fumes arising during bad digestion, is incapa¬ 
ble of receiving neat and clear ideas; he gives himself up 
with fury to the inordinate movements of luxury and anger, 
which destroy his health; his body becomes fat, heavy, and 
unfit for labor; he passes through painful and expensive fits 
of sickness; he rarely lives to old age, and his latter part of 
life is marked by infirmity and disgust. 

9. In what light does this law consider drunkenness? As 
the vilest and most pernicious of vices. The drunkard, de¬ 
prived of the sense and reason given us by God, profanes 
the gifts of the divinity; he lowers himself to the condition 
of the brutes; incapable of directing his steps, he totters and 
falls as in a. fit of epilepsy; he wounds himself, and endan¬ 
gers his own life. 

10. His weakness in this state renders him the plaything 
and the scorn of all around him: he contracts, during his 
drunkenness, ruinous engagements, and loses the manage¬ 
ment of his affairs: he suffers violent and outrageous obser¬ 
vations to escape him, which raise him up enemies and bring 
him to repentance: he fills his house with trouble and cha¬ 
grin; and he concludes by a premature death, or an old age, 
comfortless and diseased. 

11. Does the law of nature prescribe chastity? Yes. How 
does it forbid libertinism? By the innumerable evils which 
it entails upon our existence, physical and moral. The man 
who abandons himself to it, becomes enervated and languid; 
he is no longer able to attend to his studies or his business; 
he contracts idle and expensive habits, which diminish his 
means of livelihood, his reputation and his eredit; his in¬ 
trigues occasion him embarrassments, cares, quarrels and 
lawsuits, not to take into the account heavy and grievous dis¬ 
eases; and lastly, a premature and infirm old age. 

12. Ought modesty to be considered as a virtue? Yes; be¬ 
cause modesty maintains the mind and bedy in all the habits 
tending to the ^ood order and self-preservation of the indi- 


115 


vidual. A modest woman is esteemed, while the immodest, 
unchaste woman is despised, rejected, and abandoned to mi¬ 
sery and disgrace. 

13. Why do you say that activity is a virtue according to 
the law of nature? Because the man who labors and employs 
his time usefully, derives, from so doing, innumerable ad¬ 
vantages with respect to his existence, is he poor? his la¬ 
bor furnishes him with his subsistence; and if, in addition, 
he is sober, continent and prudent, he soon acquires many 
conveniences, and enjoys the sweets of life: his very labor 
produces in him those virtues; for as long as he continues 
to employ his mind and his body, he is not affected by inor¬ 
dinate desires; he is free from dullness; he contracts mild 
and pleasant habits; he augments his strength and his health, 
and arrives to an old age of felicity and peace. 

14. Are idleness and sloth then vices in the order of na¬ 
ture? Yes; and the most pernicious of all vices; for they 
lead to every other. In idleness and sloth man remains ig¬ 
norant, and even loses the knowledge which he had before 
acquired, falling into all the evils which accompany ignorance 
and foily. 

15. In idleness and sloth, man, devoured by listless dull¬ 
ness, gives himself up to the dominion of sense, whose em¬ 
pire, as it increases and extends from day to day, renders 
him intemperate, gluttonous, luxurious, enervate, cowardly, 
base, and despicable. The certain effects of all which vices 
are, the ruin of his fortune, the wasting of his health, and 
the termination of his life in the anguish of disease, poverty 
and disgrace, 

16. If I understand you, it would appear that poverty is a 
vice? No; it is not a vice; but still less is it a virtue; for it is 
much more frequently injurious than useful; it is even com¬ 
monly the result of vice, or its first occasion; for every indi¬ 
vidual vice conducts towards indigence; even to the priva¬ 
tion of the necessaries of life; and when a man is in want of 
the necessaries, he is on the point of endeavoring to procure 
them by vicious methods; that is, methods hurtful to society. 

17. All the private virtues, on the contrary, tend to pro¬ 
cure for man an abundance of subsistence; and when he has 
more than he can consume, it becomes more easy for him to 
give to others, and to perform actions useful to society. 

18. Why do you rank cleanliness in the class of virtues? 
Beeause it is really one of the most important, as it has a 


ilG 


powerful influence on the health, and preservation of the bo¬ 
dy. Cleanliness, as well in our garments as in our dwell¬ 
ings, prevents the pernicious effects of dampness, of bad 
smells, and of contagious vapors arising from substances 
abandoned to putrefy. Cleanliness keeps up a free perspi¬ 
ration, renews the air, refreshes the blood, and even animates 
and enlivens tiie mind. 

19. Whence we see that persons, attentive to the cleanli¬ 
ness of their persons and their habitations, are, in general, 
more healthy, and less exposed to diseases, than those who 
live in filth and nastiness; and it may moreover be remarked, 
that cleanliness brings with it, throughout every part of do¬ 
mestic discipline, habits of order and arrangement, which are 
among the first and best methods and elements of happiness. 

20. Is uncleanliness then, or filthiness, a real vice? Yes; 
as real as drunkenness, or as sloth, from which, for the most 
part, it derives its origin. Uncleanliness is a secondary, 
and often a first cause of a multitude of slight disorders, and 
even of dangerous sicknesses. 

21. It is well known in medicine, that it generates the itch, 
the scald head, the leprosy, no less certainly than the same 
disorders are produced by corrupted or acrid aliments; that 
it contributes to the contagious power of the plague and of 
malignant fevers; that it even gives birth to them in hospitals 
and prisons; that it occasions rheumatism by incrusting the 
skin with dirt, and checking perspiration; not to mention the 
disgraceful inconvenience of being devoured by insects, the 
unclean appendage of abject misery.. 

22. Thus all the individual or private virtues have, for their 
more or less direct, and more or less proximate end, the pre¬ 
servation of the man who practises them; while, by the pre¬ 
servation of each individual, they tend to insure that of the 
family and of society at large, which is nothing more than- 
the united sum of those individuals. 


SECTION VI. 

OF DOMESTIC VIRTUES. 

1. What do you mean by domestic virtues? I mean the 
practice of those actions which are useful to a family, that is, 
to a number <tf persons living under one roof. What are those 
virtues? Economy, parental affection, conjugal love, filial 
love, brotherly love, and the fulfilment of the reciprocal du¬ 
ties of master and servant. 







117 


2. W hat is Economy? Taken in its most extensive signi¬ 
fication, it is the proper administration of whatever concerns 
the existence of the family or household; but as subsistence 
holds the first rank among these circumstances, the word 
oeconomy has been restricted to the employment of our mo¬ 
ney in procuring for us the primary wants of life. 

3-. W by is economy a virtue? Because the man who en¬ 
ters into no useless expense, generally possesses a super¬ 
abundance, which constitutes real wealth, and by means of 
which he procures for himself and his family, all that is truly 
useful and convenient; without taking into the account, that, 
bv this means he ensures to himself resources against acci¬ 
dental and unforeseen losses; so that himself, and his family 
live in a tranquil and pleasant state of ease, which is the basis 
of all human happiness. 

4. Are dissipation and prodigality then vices? Yes: for 
they bring a man at last to the want of the necessaries of life; 
he falls into poverty, misery, and abject disgrace; so that even 
his acquaintance, fearful of being obliged to restore to him 
what he has squandered with them or upon them, fly from him 
as a debtor from his creditor, and he is left abandoned by all 
the world. 

5. What is parental affection? The assiduous care which? 
a parent takes to bring up his children in the habit of every 
action useful to themselves and to society. In what respect 
is parental tenderness a virtue, with respect to parents? In 
as much as the parents who bring up their children in good 
habits, lay up for the whole course of their lives those enjoy¬ 
ments and aids which are grateful to us at all times, and en¬ 
sure against old age, those supports and consolations which 
are required by the wants and calamities of that period of life. 

6. What is filial love? It is, on the part of children, the 
practice of such actions as are useful to themselves and .to 
their parents. What motives does the law of nature present 
to enforce filial love? Three chief motives: 1st, Sentiment, 
for from our earliest infancy, the affectionate solicitudes of 
our parents, produce in us the mild habits of attachment. 2d, 
The sense of justice: for children owe their parents a return, 
and, as it were, a reparation for the troubles, and even for the 
expenses which they have occasioned them. 3d, Personal 
interest; for if we act ill towards our progenitors, we offer our 
own children examples of rebellion and ingratitude. 

7. Why is brotherly love a virtue? .Because the concord 


118 


and union which result from the mutual affection of brethren, 1 
establish the power, safety, and preservation of families. < 
Brethren in union mutually defend each other from all op¬ 
pression, assist each other in their mutual wants, support 1 
each other under misfortune, and thus secure their common 
existence; while brethren in a state of disunion, each being 
abandoned to his personal strength, fall into all the inconve- 1 
niences of insulation from society, and of individual leeble- j 
ness. < l 1 

8. This truth was ingeniously expressed by that king of 
Scythia, who, on his death-bed havingcalled his children round i 
him, ordered them to break a bundle of arrows; when the 1 
young men. though in full vigor were not able to accomplish h 
this, he took the bundle in his turn, and having untied it, broke I 
each separate arrow with his fingers. Behold, said he, the 
effect of union; united in a body, you will be invincible, taken 
separately, you will be broken like reeds. 

.',*1 1 

SECTION VII. 

OF THE SOCIAL VIRTUES: OF JUSTICE, LIBERTY, CHARITY, PRO¬ 
BITY, SIMPLICITY OF MANNERS, PATRIOTISM. 

1. What is society? Every aggregated reunion of men 
living together under the regulations of a contract tacit or ex¬ 
pressed for their common preservation. Are the social duties 
many in number? Yes: we may count as many as there are 
actions useful to society; but they may be all reduced to one 
principle. What is this fundamental principle? Justice, 
which itself alone comprehends all the social virtues. 

2. Why do you say that justice is the fundamental, and al¬ 
most only virtue of social life? Because it alone embraces the 
practice of all those actions which are useful to society; and 
that every virtue, under the name of charity, humanity, pro¬ 
bity, 1 >ve of country, sincerity, generosity, simplicity of man- J 
ners, and modesty, are but varied forms, and diversified ap¬ 
plications of this axiom: “ Do unto another only that which 
thou wouldst he should do unto thee;” which is the definition || 
of justice. 

3. How does the law of nature ordain justice? By means 
of three physicial attributes which are inherent in the organ¬ 
ization of man. What are these attributes? Equality, liber¬ 
ty, property. In what sense is equatty a physical attribute 








of man? Because, ail men having equally eyes, hands, mouth, 
ears, and being alike under the necessity of making use of 
them for their life’s sake, are by this very fact equally entitled 
to life, and to the use of the elements which contribute to its 
support. They are all equal before God. 

4. Why is Liberty called a physical attribute of man? Be¬ 
cause all men possessing senses fitted and sufficient for their 
preservation; no one having need of the eye of another man 
in order to see, of his ear to hear, of his mouth to eat, or of 
his foot to walk, they are all made by this means, naturally 
independent and free. 

5. How is property a physical attribute of man? Since 
every man is formed equal and similar to his fellows, and 
consequently free and independent, every one is the absolute 
master, the entire proprietor of his body, and the products of 
his labor. 

6. How is justice derived from these three attributes? 
From this circumstance, that men being equal, free, and ow¬ 
ing nothing to each other, have no right to demand any thing 
of their fellows, but in proportion as they return for it some¬ 
thing equivalent; in proportion as the balance of what is given 
to what is paid, remains in equilibrium; and it is this equality, 
this equilibrium which is called justice and equity. 

7. Unfold to me how the social virtues are derived from 
the law of nature. How is charity, or the love of our neigh¬ 
bor a precept or application of tins law? By reason of the 
laws of equality and reciprocity. Thus, by attacking the ex¬ 
istence of another, we make an attack upon our own in con¬ 
sequence of the law of reciprocity. On the contrary, when 
we do good to our neighbor, we have ground and reason to 
expect an exchange of good, an equivalent.* 

8. Charity then is nothing more than justice? Yes*, it is 
nothing more than justice, with this single difference, that 
strict justice,confines itself to the assertion, “Do not to others 
the evil which thou wouldst not they should do unto thee:” 
and that charity, or the love of our neighbor goes farther, even 
tosay,Do unto others the good which you wish to receive from 
them. 

* In addition to the mercantile object of doing good to others for the 
purchase ot an equivalent, 

Beneficence regardless of herself, 

Of pride, ambition, policy, or pelf, 

Enjoys, in blest return for one poor mite, 

A mine—an empire of sublime delight. Lathrop. 


120 


#. Does the law of nature prescribe probity? Yes: for pro¬ 
bity is nothing more than a respect paid to our own rights 
through the medium of the rights of others; a respect derived f 
from a prudent and well-made calculation of our own inter¬ 
ests, compared with those of others. 

10. But does not this calculation, which includes the com¬ 
plicated interests and rights of the social state, demand 
such light, and such knowledge of things, ns to render it a 
science of difficult acquisition? Yes: and a science so much 
the more delicate, as the man of probity pronounces sentence 
in his own cause. 

11. Is probity then a mark of an enlarged and correct 
mind? Yes: for the man ot probity almost always neglects 
some present interest for the sake of one which is future; 
while on the other hand, the knave is willing to lose a great 
interest to come for the sake of some trifling one which is nre- 

is l 

sent. 

12. Knavery then is a sign of false judgment and narrow¬ 
ness of mind? Yes: and rogues may be defined to be ignor¬ 
ant or foolish speculators, for they know not their own inter¬ 
ests; and though they affect wariness and cunning, their arti¬ 
fices seldom fail to expose them, and make them known for 
what they are; to deprive them of the confidence and esteem 
of others, and of all the advantages which might thence result 
to their social and physical existence. They neither live in 
peace with themselves, nor with others, and incessantly 
alarmed by their conscience and their enemies, they enjoy no 
other real happiness than that of escaping from the execu¬ 
tioner. 

13. How can a man, according to the law of nature, repair 
any injury which he has committed? By conferring a pro¬ 
portionable benefit upon those whom he has injured Is sin¬ 
cerity enjoined by the law of nature? Yes: for lying, perfidy, 
and perjury, excite amongst men, distrust, dissension, hatred, 
revenge, and a multitude of evils, which tend to the destruc¬ 
tion of society: whilst sincerity and good faith establish con¬ 
fidence, concord, peace, and the other infinite advantages, 
which are the necessary result of such a happy state of things. 

14. Does it prescribe mildness and modesty? Yes: for an 
assuming and rude deportment while it alienates from us the 
hearts of other men, infuses into them a disposition to do us 
disservice: ostentation and vanity , by wounding their self- 
love and exciting their jealousy, prevent us frou^attaining 
the point of real utility. 








121 


15. You have classed among the social virtues, simplicity 
of manners; what do you mean by that expression? 1 mean 
confining our wants and desires, to what is really useful for 
the existence of the individual and his family: that is to say, 
the man of simple manners has few wants, and is content with 
little. 

16. How is this virtue recommended to us? I3y the nu¬ 
merous advantages, which it bestows both upon the individual, 
and upon society at large; for the man who has few wants, 
liberates himself at once from a crowd of cares, troubles and 
toils, avoids a number of disputes and quarrels, which arise 
from the eager desire of gain; is free from the cares of ambi¬ 
tion, the inquietudes of possession, and the fears of loss. 

17. Again, if this virtue of simplicity, were extended to a 
whole people, it secures abundance to them; every thing which 
they do not immediately consume, becomes to them a source 
of trade and commerce to a very great extent; they labor, 
they manufacture, and sell their productions to greater ad¬ 
vantage than others; and attain the summit both of external 
and internal prosperity. What vice is the direct opposite of 
this virtue? Cupidity and luxury. 

18. Is luxury a vice both in the individual and in society 
at large? Yes: and to such an extent, that, it may be said to 
include in it the seeds ol all others; for the man who makes 
many things necessary to his happiness, imposes at the same 
time upon himself all the cares, and submits to all the means 
of acquiring them, whether they be just or unjust. 

19. Has he already one enjoyment, he wishes for another, 
and in the midst of superfluities, he is never rich; a commo¬ 
dious habitation \viil not satisfy him; he must have a superb 
hotel; he is not content with a plentiful table; he must have 
rare and costly meats; he must have splendid furniture, ex¬ 
pensive apparel, and a long, useless train of footmen, horses, 
carriages and women; he must be constantly at the gaming 
table, or at places of public entertainment. Now, to support 
these expenses, a great deal of money is requisite; he begins 
by borrowing, becomes bankrupt, is at war with mankind, 
ruins others, and is himself ruined. 

20. Again, if we consider the effects of luxury upon a na¬ 
tion, it produces the same ravages upon a large scale; incon¬ 
sequence of its consuming within itself all its productions, it 
is poor in the midst of abundance; it has nothing to sell to 
the foreigner; it manufactures at a heavy expense; it sells its 

n 


122 


produce at a dear rate, and becomes a tributary for every 
thing which it imports: it loses its respectability, its strength, 
and its means of defence and preservation abroad; whilst at 
home it is undermined, and the bond of union between its 
members dissolved. 

21. All its citizens being greedy after enjoyments, are per¬ 
petually struggling with each other for the attainment of 
them; all are either inflicting injuries, or have the disposition 
to do so: and hence arise those actions and habits of usurpa¬ 
tion, which compose what is called moral corruption , or in- , 
testine war between the members of the same society. 

22. Luxury produces rapacity, rapacity the invasion of 
others by violence, or by breach of public faith; so that the 
ancient moralists had an accurate perception of truth when 
they declared that all the social virtues w#re founded upon a 
simplicity of manners, a limitation of wants: and we may take 
as a certain scale of the virtues or vices of a man, the pro¬ 
portion which his expenses bear to his revenue. 

25. What do you mean by the word country? 1 under¬ 
stand by that word, a community of citizens who, united by 
fraternal sentiments and reciprocal wants, unite their indi¬ 
vidual forces, for the purposes of general security, the re¬ 
action of which upon each of them, assumes the beneficial and 
protecting character of paternity - 

24. In society, the members of it form a bank of interest; 
in a country they constitute a family of tender attachments; 
by means of which, charity, and the love of our neighbor, arc 
extended to a whole natioo. No member of this family can 
pretend to the enjoyment of any advantages, except in pro¬ 
portion to his exertions; and he can only attain the means of 
being generous or disinterested, in proportion as his expenses 
are confined within the limits of his acquisitions or posses¬ 
sions. 

25. What is your deduction from these principles? I con¬ 
clude from these principles, that all the social virtues con¬ 
sist in the performance of actions useful both to the society 
and to the individual: that they may be all traced to the phy- 
sical object of the preservation of man: that nature having im¬ 
planted in our bosoms the necessity of this preservation, im¬ 
poses all the consequences arising from it as a law, and pro¬ 
hibits as a crime whatever counteracts the operation of this 
principle: 

2$. That we are happy, in exact proportion to the obedi*, 



128 


ence we yield to those laws which nature has established with 
a view to our preservation: that the following axioms are 
founded upon our natural organization: Preserve thyself. 
Instruct thyself. Moderate thyself. Live for thy fellow 
creatures in order that they may live for thee. 


CHAPTER 2. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF THE ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE# 

SECTION I. 

DUTIES THAT RELATE TO MAN, CONSIDERED AS AN INDIVIDUAL- 

1. Commune with thyself, 0 man! and consider wherefore 
thou wert made. Contemplate thy powers; contemplate thy 
wants and thy connections; so shalt thou discover the duties 
of life, and be directed in all thy ways. Proceed not to speak 
or to act before thou hast weighed thy words, and examined 
the tendency of every step thou shalt take; so shall disgrace 
lly far from thee, una in thy house shall shame be a stranger; 
repentance shall not visit thee, nor sorrow sit upon thy 
cheek. 

2* The thoughtless man bridleth not his tongue; he speak- 
eth at random, and is entangled in the foolishness of his own 
words. As one that runneth in haste, and leapeth over a 
fence, may fall into a pit on the other side, which he doth 
not see; so is the man that plungeth suddenly into an action, 
before he has considered the consequences thereof. 

3. As a plain garment best adorneth a beautiful woman, 
so a decent behavior is the greatest ornament of wisdom. But, 
behold the vain man, and observe the arrogant; he clotheth 
himself in rich attire, he walketh in the public street, he cas* 
teth round his eyes, and courteth observation. 

4. Since the days that are past are gone forever, and those 
that are to come may not come to thee: it behoveth thee, O 
man! to employ the present time, without regretting the loss 
of that which is past, or too much depending on that which is 
to come. This instant is thine; the next is in the womb of 
futurity,and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. 

5. Whatsoever thou resol vest to do, do it quickly. Defer 
not till the evening what the morning may accomplish. Idle¬ 
ness is the parent of want and pain; but the labor of virtue 
bringeth forth pleasure. The hand of diligence defeated 



124 

want; prosperity and success are the industrious man’s at¬ 
tendants. : 

6. He riseth up early, and lyeth down late; lie exerciseth 
his mind with contemplation, and his body with action, and 
preserveth the health of both. The slothful man is a,burden 
to himself, his hours hang heavy on his head; he loitereth 
about, and knoweth not what he would do. His days pass 
a way like the shadow of a cloud, and he leaveth behind him 
no mark of remembrance. 

7. His body is diseased for want of exercise; he wisheth 
for action, but hath not power to move; his mind is in dark¬ 
ness; his thoughts are confused; he longeth for knowledge, 
but hath no application. He would eat of the almond, but he 
hateth the trouble of breaking its shell. 

8. His house is in disorder, his servants are wasteful and 
riotous, and he runneth on towards ruin; he seethit with his 
eyes, he heareth it with his ears, he shaketh his head and wish¬ 
eth, but hath no resolution; till ruin cometh upon him like a 
whirlwind, and shame and repentance descend with him to 
the grave. 

9. The fool is not always unfortunate, nor the wise man 
always successful; yet never had a fool a thorough enjoyment, 
never was a wise man wholly unhappy. 

10. Perils, and misfortunes, and want, and pain, and in¬ 
jury, are more or less the certain lot of every man that 
cometh into the world. It behoveth thee, therefore, O child 
of calamity! early to fortify thy mind with courage and pa¬ 
tience, that thou mayest support, with a becoming resolution, 
thy allotted portion of human evil. 

11. Forget not, O man! that thy station on earth is ap¬ 
pointed by the wisdom of the Eternal, who knoweth thy 
heart, who seeth the vanity of thy wishes, and who often in 
mercy denieth thy requests. Yet, for all reasonable desires, 
for all honest endeavors, his benevolence hath established, 
in the nature of things, a probability of success. 

12. The uneasiness thou feelest, the misfortunes thou be- 
wailest, behold the root from whence they spring, even thine 
own folly, thine own pride, thine own distempered fancy. 
Murmur not, therefore, at the dispensations of God, but cor¬ 
rect thine own heart; neither say within thyself if I had 
wealth, power or leisure, I should be happy; for know, they 
all of them bring to their several possessors their peculiar 
inconveniences, 




13. The poor man seeth not the vexations and anxieties 
of the rich; he ieeleth not the difficulties and perplexities 
of power; neither knoweth he the wearisomeness of leisure; 
and therefore it is that he repineth at his own lot. But en¬ 
vy not the appearance of happiness in any man; for thou 
knowest not his secret griefs. 

14. To be satisfied with a little is the greatest wisdom; 
and he that increaseth his riches, increaseth his cares; but 
a contented mind is a hidden treasure, and trouble findeth 
it not. Yet, if thou sufterest not the allurements of fortune 
to rob thee ot justice, or temperance, or charity, or modesty, 
even riches themselves shall not make thee unhappy. 

15. The nearest approach thou canst make to happiness 
on this side the grave, is to enjoy from heaven understand¬ 
ing and health. These blessings if thou possessest, and 
wouldst preserve to old age, avoid the allurements of volup¬ 
tuousness, and fly from her temptations. When she spreadeth 
her delicacies on the board, when her wine sparkleth in the 
cup, when she smileth upon thee, and persuadeth thee to be 
joyful and happy; then is the hour of danger, and let rea¬ 
son stand firmly on her guard. 

16. For, if thou hearkenest unto the words of her adver¬ 
sary, thou art deceived and betrayed. The joy which she 
promiseth changeth to madness, and her enjoyments lead 
on to diseases and death. Look round her board, cast thine 
eyes upon her guests, and observe those who have been al¬ 
lured by her smiles, who have listened to her temptations. 
Are they not meagre? are they not sickly? are they not spi¬ 
ritless? 

17. Their short hours of jollity and riot are followed by 
tedious days of pain and dejection. She hath debauched and 
palled their appetites, that they have no relish for her nicest 
dainties; her votaries are become her victims; the just and 
natural consequences which God hath ordained, in the con¬ 
stitution of things, for the punishment of those who abuse hi$ 
gifts. 

18. Enfeebled by dalliance, with luxury pampered, and 
softened by sioth, strength shall forsake thy limbs, and health 
thy constitution. Thy days shall be few, and those inglori¬ 
ous: thy griefs shall be many, yet meet with no compassion. 

* n 


126 

r ' SECTION II. 

THE PASSIO'NS: JOY AND GRIEF; ANGER; PITY. 

1. Let not thy mirth be so extravagant as to intoxicate thy 
mind, nor thy sorrow so heavy as to depress thy heart. This 
world affbrdeth no good so transporting, nor inflicteth any 
evil so severe, as should raise thee far above, or sink thee 
much beneath, the balance of moderation. Lo! yonder stand- 
eth the house of joy. It is painted on the outside, and looketh 
gay; thou mayst know it from the continual noise of mirth 
and exultation that issueth from it. 

2. The mistress staodeth at the door, and calleth aloud to 
all that pass by; she singeth, and shouteth, and laughetji with¬ 
out ceasing. She inviteth them to go in and taste the plea¬ 
sures of life, which she telleth them are no where to be found, 
but beneath her roof. But enter not thou into her gate; nei¬ 
ther associate thyself with those who frequent her house. 

3. They call themselves the sons of joy; they laugh and 
seem delighted; but madness and folly are in all their do¬ 
ings. They are linked with mischief, hand in hand, and their 
steps lead down to evil. Dangers beset them round about, 
and the pit of destruction yawneth beneath their feet. Look 
nowon the other side; and behold in that vale overshadowed 
with trees and hid from the sight of men, the habitation of 
sorrow. 

4. Her bosom heaveth with sighs; her mouth is filled with 
lamentation; she delighteh to dwell on the subject of human 
misery. She looketh on the common accidents of life, and 
weepeth; the weakness and wickedness of man is the theme 
of her lips. All nature to her teemeth with evil; every ob¬ 
ject she seeth is tinged with the gloom of her own minu; and 
the voice of complaint saddeneth her dwelling day and night. 

5. Come not near her cell; her breath is contagious; she 
will blast the fruits, and wither the flowers that adorn and 
sweeten the garden of life. In avoiding the house of jov, let 
not thy feet betray thee to the borders of this dismal man¬ 
sion; but pursue with care the middle path, which shall lead 
thee, by gentle ascent, to the bower of tranquillity. 

6. With her dwelleth peace; with her dweileth safety and 
contentment. She is cheerful, but not gay; she is serious, 
but not grave; she vieweth the joys and the sorrows of life 
with an equal and steady eye. 

7. From hence, as from an eminence, shalt thou behold 


the folly and the misery of those, who, led by the gaiety of 
their hearts, take up their abode with the companions of jol¬ 
lity and riotous mirth; or, infected by gloominess and melan¬ 
choly, spend all their days in complaining of the woes and 
calamities of human life. Thou shalt view them both with 
pity; and the error of their ways shall keep thy feet from 
straying. 

8. Seest thou not that the angry man loseth his understand¬ 
ing? Whilst thou art yet in thy senses, let the wrath of ano¬ 
ther be a lesson to thyself. Harbor not revenge in thy breast; 
it will torment thy heart, and disorder its best inclinations. 
Be always more ready to forgive than to return an injury: he 
that watcheth for an opportunity of revenge, lieth in wait 
against himself, and draweth down mischief on his own head. 

9. As blossoms and^flowers are strewed upon the earth by 
the hand of spring, as the kindness of summer produceth in 
perfection the bounties of harvest; so the smiles of pity shed 
blessings on the children of misfortune. He who pitieth 
another, recommendeth himself; bnt he who is without com¬ 
passion, deserveth it not. 

10. The butcher relenteth not at the bleating of the lamb; 
neither is the heart of the cruel moved with distress. But 
the tears of the compassionate are sweeter than dew-drops, 
falling from roses on the bosom of the earth. Shut not thine 
ears, therefore, against the cries of the poor; neither harden 
thine heart against the calamities of the innocent. 

11. When the fatherless call upon thee, when the widow’s 
heart is sunk, and she imploreth thy assistance with tears of 
sorrow; O pity heraffiiction, and extend thyhand to those who 
have none to help them. When thou seest the naked wan¬ 
derer of the street shivering with cold, and destitute of habi¬ 
tation, let bounty open thine heart; let the wings of chanty 
shelter him from death, that thine own soul may live. 

12. Whilst the poor man groaneth on the bed of sickness, 
whilst the unfortunate languish in the horrors of a dungeon, 
or the hoary head of age lifts up a feeble eye to thee for pity; 
O how canst thou riot in superfluous enjoyments, regardless 
of their wants, unfeeling of their woes! 


128 


SECTION in. 

WOMAN. 

1. Give ear, fair daughter of love, to the instructions of 
Prudence, and let the precept of truth sink deep in thy heart; 
so shall the charms of thy mind add lustre to the elegance of 
thy form; and thy beauty, like the rose it resembleth, shall 
retain its sweetness when its bloom is withered. 

2. Who is she that winneth the heart of man, that subdueth 
him to love, and reignetli in bis breast? Lo! yonder she 
walketh in maiden sweetness, with innocence in her mind, 
and modesty on her cheek. Her hand seeketh employment; 
her foot delighteth not in gadding abroad. She is clothed 
with neatness; she is fed with temperance; humility and 
meekness are as a crown of glory encircling her head. De¬ 
cency is in all her words; in her answers are mildness and 
truth. 

3. Before her steps walketh prudence, and virtue attend- 
clh at her right hand. Her eye speaketh softness and love; 
but discretion with a sceptre sitteth on her brow. The tongue 
of the licentious is dumb in her presence; the awe of her vir¬ 
tue keepeth him silent. When scandal is busy, and the fame 
of her neighbor is tossed from tongue to tonge; if charity and 
good nature open not her mouth, the finger of silence resteth 
on her lip. 

4. Her breast is the mansion of goodness; and therefore, 
she suspecteth no evil in others. Happy were the man that 
should make her his wife; happy the child that shall call her 
mother. She presideth in the house, and there is peace; she 
commandeth with judgment, and is obeyed. She ariseth in 
the morning; she considers her affairs; and appointeth to 
every one their proper business. 

5. The care of her family is her whole delight; to that alone 
she applieth her study; and elegance with frugality is seen 
inlier mansions. The prudence of her management is an ho¬ 
nor to her husband, and he heareth her praise with a secret 
delight. She informeth the minds of her children with wis¬ 
dom; she fashioneth their manners from the example of her 
own goodness. 

6. The word ot her mouth is the law of their youth; the 
motion of her eye commandeth her obedience. She speak¬ 
eth, and her servants fiy; she pointeth, and the thing is done; 
for the law of love is in their hearts; and her kindness ad- 
deth wings to their feet. 


129 


T. In prosperity she is not puffed up; in adversity she 
healeth the wounds of fortune with patience. The troubles 
of her husband are alleviated by her counsels, and sweetened 
by her endearment; he putteth his heart in her bosom, and re¬ 
ceive th comfort. 


SECTION IV. 

DUTIES OF CHILDREN TO PARENTS, AND OF BROTHERS TO ON® 
ANOTHER. 

1. From the creatures of God let man learn wisdom, and 
apply to himself the instruction they give. Go to the desert 
my son; observe the young stork of the wilderness; let him 
speak to thy heart; hebeareth on his wings his aged sire; he 
lodgethhim in safety, and supplieth him with food. 

2. The piety of a child is sweeter than the incense of Per¬ 
sia offered to the sun; yea, more delicious than odours waft¬ 
ed from a field of Arabian spices, by the western gales. Be 
grateful then to thy father, for he gave thee life; and to thy 
mother, for she sustained thee. 

3. Hear the words of his mouth, for they are spoken for 
thy good: give ear to his admonition, for it proceedeth from 
love. He hath w atched for thy w elfare; he hath toiled for 
thy ease; do honor therefore to liis age, and let not his grey 
hairs be treated with irreverence. 

4. Forget not thy lie!pies infancy, nor the frow r ardness of 
thy youth, and indulge the infirmities of thy aged parents; as¬ 
sist and support them in the decline of life. So shall their 
Hoary heads go down to the grave in peace; and thine own 
children in reverence of thy example, shall repay thy piety 
with filial love. 

5. Ye are the children of one father, provided for by his 
care; and the breast of one*mother hath given you suck. Let 
the bonds of affection, therefore, unite thee with thy brothers; 
that peace aaid happiness may dwell in thy father’s house. 

6. And when ye separate in the world, remember the rela¬ 
tion that bindeth you to love and unity; and prefer not a 
stranger before thine own blood. If thy brother is in adversi¬ 
ty, assist him: If thy sister is in trouble, forsake her not. So 
shall the fortunes of thy father contribute to the support of 
his whole race; and his care be continued, to you all, in your 
love to each other. 



130 

SECTION V. 

WISE AND IGNORANT; RICH AND POOR; MASTERS ANIV SERVANTS* 

1. The gifts of the understanding are the treasures of God; 
and he appointeth to every one his portion, in what measure 
seemeth good unto himself. Hath he endowed thee witli wis¬ 
dom; hath he enlightened thy mind with the knowledge of 
truth? communicate it to the ignorant, for their instruction. 

2. But the wise man cultivates his mind with knowledge; 
the improvement of arts is his delight; and their utility to the 
public crowneth him with honor. Nevertheless, the attain¬ 
ment of virtue he accounteth as the highest learning; and the 
science of happiness is the study of his life. 

3. The man to whom God hath given riches, and blessed 
with a mind to employ them aright, i9 peculiarly favored and 
highly distinguished. He looketh on his wealth with plea¬ 
sure; because itaffordeth him the means to do good. He pro- 
tecteth the poor that are injured; he 9uffereth not the mighty 
fo oppress the weak. 

4. He seeketh out objects of compassion; he inquireth into 
their wants; he relicveth them with judgment, and without 
ostentation. He assistetli and rewardeth merit; he encourag- 
cth ingenuity, and liberally promoteth every useful design. 
He carrieth on great works; his country is enriched, and the 
laborer is employed; he formeth new schemes, and the arts 
receive improvement. 

5. He considereth the superfluities of his table as belonging 
to the poor of his neighborhood, and he defraudeth them not. 
The benevolence of his mind is not checked by his fortune; 
he rejoiceth therefore in riches, and his joy is blameless. 

6. But wo unto him that heapeth up wealth in abundance, 
and rejoiceth alone in the possession thereof. Thatgrindeth 
the face of the poor, and considereth not the sweat of their 
brows. He thriveth on oppression without feeling; the ruin 
of his brother disturbeth him not. The tears of the orphan he 
drinketh as milk; the cries of the widow are music to his car. 

7. His heart is hardened with the love of wealth; no grief 
nor distress can make impression upon it. But the curse of 
iniquity pursueth him; he liveth in continual fear; the anxie¬ 
ty of hismind, and the rapacious desires of his own soul, take 
vengeane upon him, for the calamities he hath brought upon 
others. 

8. O, what are the miseries of poverty in comparison with 




131 


the gnawings of this man’s heart! Let the poor man comfoFt 
himself, yea, rejoice, for he hath many reasons. He sitteth 
down to his morsel in peace; his table is not crowded with 
flatterers and devourers. He is not embarrassed with a train 
of dependents, nor teased with the clamors of solicitation. 

9. Debarred from the dainties of the rich, he escaped al¬ 
so their diseases. The bread that he eateth, is it not sweet 
to his taste? the water he drinketh, is it not pleasant to his 
thirst? yea, far more delicious thau the richest draughts of 
the luxurious. His labor preserveth his health, and procur¬ 
ed him a repose, to which the downy bed of sloth is a stran¬ 
ger. 

10. He limiteth his desires with humility; and the calm of 
contentment is sweeter to his soul dan all the acquirements 
of wealth and grandeur. Let not the rich, therefore, presume 
on his riches; nor the poor in his poverty yield to despondence; 
for the Providence of God dispensed happiness to them both. 

11. The honor of a servant is his fidelity; his highest vir¬ 
tues are submission and obedience. Be patient, therefore, 
under the reproofs of thy master; and when he rebuked thee 
answer not again. The silence of thy resignation shall not 
be forgotten. Be studious of his interests; be diligent in his 
affairs; and faithful to the trust which he reposed in thee. 

12. Thy time and thy labor belong unto him. Defraud him 
not therefore, for he payed thee for them. And thou who 
art a master, be kind to thy servant, if thou expectest from 
him fidelity; and reasonable in thy commands, if thou expect- 
est a ready obedience The spirit of a man is in him; seve¬ 
rity and rigor may create fear, but can never command his 
love. 

13. Mix kindness with reproof, and reason with authority; 
so shall thy admonitions take place in his heart, and his duty 
shall become his pleasure. He shall serve thee faithfully 
from the motive of gratitude; he shall obey thee cheerfully 
from the principle of love; and fail not thou, in return, to give 
his diligence and fidelity their proper reward. 


SECTION VI. 

the social duties: benevolence, justice, charity, RELI¬ 
GION. 

1. When thou considerest thy wants, when thou beholdest 
thy imperfections, acknowledge lus goodness, O son of hu- 



132 


inanity! who honoured thee with reason, endowed thee 
with speech, and placed thee in society to receive and confer 
reciprocal helps and mutual obligations. 

2. Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habitation, 
thy protection from the injuries, the enjoyment of the com¬ 
forts and the pleasures of life, all these thou owest to the as¬ 
sistance of others; and couldstnot enjoy but in the bands of 
society. It is thy duty therefore to be a friend to mankind, 
as it is thy interest that man should be friendly to thee. 

3. As the rose breatheth sweetness from its own nature, so 
the heart of a benevolent man produceth good works. He 
enjoyeth the ease and tranquillity of his own breast, and re- 
joiceth in the happiness and prosperity of his neighbor. He 
openeth not his ear unto slander; the faults and the failings 
of men give a pain to his heart. 

4. His desire is to do good, and he searcheth out the occa¬ 
sion thereof; in removing the oppression of another, he reliev- 
eth himself. From the largeness of his mind he comprehend- 
eth in his wishes the happiness of all men; and from the gen¬ 
erosity of his heart, he endeavoreth to promote it. 

5. The peace of society dependeth on justice; the happiness 
of individuals, on the safe enjoyment of all their possessions. 
Keep the desires of thy heart, therefore, within the bounds of 
moderation; let the hand of justice lead them aright. Cast 
not an evil eye on the goods of thy neighbor; let whatever is 
his property be sacred from thy touch. 

6. In thy dealings with men be impartial and just; and do 
unto them as thou wouldst they should do unto thee. 

7. When thouseliest for gain, hear the whispering of con¬ 
science, and be satisfied with moderation; nor from the ignor¬ 
ance of the buyer make any advantage to thyself. 

8. Pay the debts which thou owest; for he who gave thee 
credit, relied upon thine honor: and to withhold from him his 
due, is both mean and unjust. 

9. Finally; O son of society! examine thy heart, call remem¬ 
brance to thy aid; and if, in any of those things, thou findest 
thou hast transgressed, take sorrow and shame to thyself, and 
make speedy reparation to the utmost of thy power. 

12. Happy is the man who hath sown in his breast the seeds 
of benevolence; the produce thereof shall be charity and love. 
From the fountain of his heart shall rise rivers of goodness; 
and the streams shall overflow for the good of mankind. He 
assisteth the poor in their trouble; he rejoiceth in furthering 
the prosperity of all men. 


IM 

11- He censureth not his neighbor; he believeth not the 
tales of envy and malevolence; neither repeateth he their slan¬ 
ders. He forgiveth the injuries of men; he wipeth them from 
his remembrance; revenge and malice have no place in his 
heart. For evil he returneth not evil; he hateth not even his 
enemies; but requiteth their injustice with friendly admoni¬ 
tion. 

12. The griefs and anxietiesof men excite hiscompassion, 
he endeavors to alleviate the weight of their misfortunes; and 
the pleasure of success rewardeth his labor. He calmeth the 
fury, he healeth the quarrels of angry men, and preventeth 
the mischiefs of strife and animosity. Me promoteth in his 
neighborhood peace and good will; and his name is repeated 
with praise and benedictions. 

13. The providence of God is over all his works; he ruleth 
and directeth with infinite wisdom. He hath instituted laws 
for the government of the world; he hath wonderfully varied 
them in all beings; and each by his nature, conform to his 
will. His goodness is conspicuous in all his works; he is the 
fountain of excellence, the centre of perfection- 

id. The creatures of his hand declare his goodness, and all 
their enjoyments speak his praise; he clotheth them with beau¬ 
ty; lie sapporteth them with food; and preserveth them from 
generation to generation. If we lift up our eyes to the hea¬ 
vens, his glory shineth forth; if we cast them down upon the 
earth, it is full of his goodness: the hills and the vallies rejoice 
and sing; fields, rivers, and woods, resound his praise. 

15. But thee, O man, he hath distinguished with peculiar 
favor, and exalted thy station above all creatures. He hath 
endowed thee with reason to maintain thy dominion; lie hath 
fitted thee with language to improve by society; and exalted 
thy mind with the powers of meditation, to contemplate and 
adore his inimitable perfections. 

16 . And in the laws he hath ordained as a rule of thy life, 
so kindly hath he suited thy duty to thy nature, that obedi¬ 
ence to his precepts is happiness to thyself. “ O praise his 
goodness with songs of thanksgiving, and meditate in silence 
on the wonders of his love: let thy heart overflow with grati¬ 
tude and acknowledgment; let the language of thy lips speak 
praise and adoration; let the actions of thy life show thy love 
'to his law." 


•is 


134 

SECTION VII. 




MAN CONSIDERED IN GENERAL. 

1. Weak and ignorant as thou art, O man! humble as thou 
oughtest to be, 0 child of the dust, wouldst thou raise thy 
thoughts to infinite wisdom? wouldst thou see omnipotence 
displayed before thee? contemplate thine own frame. Won¬ 
derfully art thou made; praise therefore thy creator with awe, 
and rejoice before him with reverence. 

2. Know thyself then, the pride of his creation; the link 
uniting divinity and matter; behold a part of God himself 
within thee: remember thine own dignity; nor dare descend 
to evil or to meanness. 

3. Say not unto the crow, why numberest thou seven times 
the age of thy Lord? or, to the fawn, why are thine eyes to 
see my offspring to an hundred generations? Are these to 
be compared with thee in the abuse of life? are they riotous? 
are they cruel? are they ungrateful? Learn from them rather, 
that innocence of life and simplicity of manners are the paths 
to a good old age. Knowest thou to employ life better than 
these? then less of it may suffice thee. 

4. Enough hast thou of life, but thou regardest not: thou art 
not in vi ant of it, O man! but thou art prodigal: thou throwest 
it lightly away, as if thou hadst more than enough; and yet 
thou repinest that it is not gathered again unto thee. Know 
that it is not abundance which maketh rich, but economy. 
The wise continueth to live from his first period; the fool is 
always beginning. Be virtuous while thou art young, so 
shall thine age be honored. 

5. What blindeth the eye, or what hideth the heart of a 

man from himself, like vanity? Lo! when thou seest not thy¬ 
self, then others discover thee most plainly. Do well while 
thou livest; but regard not what is said of it. Content thyself 
with deserving praise and thy posterity shall rejoice in hear¬ 
ing it. ‘ , 

6. Beware of irresolution in the intent of thy actions, be¬ 
ware of instability in the execution; so shall thou triumph 
over too great failings of thy nature. Establish unto thyself 
principles of action; and see that thou ever act according to 
them. First know that thy principles are just, and then be 
thou inflexible in the path of them. 

7. Attribute not the good actions of another to bad mo¬ 
tives: thou canst not know his heart; but the world w ill know 
by this, that thine is full of envy. There is not in hypocrisv 








135 


more vice than folly; to be honest is as easy as to seem 90 . 
.Be more ready to acknowledge a benefit than to revenge an 
injury; so shalt thou have, more benefits than injuries done 
unto thee. Be more ready to love than to hate; so shalt thou 
be loved by more than hate thee. * 

8. Be willing to commend, and be slow to censure; so shall 
praise be unto thy virtues, and the e ve of enmity shall be blind 
to thy imperfections. When thou dost good, do it because it 
good; not not because men esteem it: when thou avoidest evil, 
fly it, because it is evil; not because men speak against it: be 
honest for love of honesty, and thou shalt be uniformly so; he 
that doth it without principle is wavering. 

9. Presumption is the bane of reason; it is the nurse of er¬ 
ror. What is the origin 'of superstition? and whence ariseth 
false worship? from our presuming to . reason about what is 
above our reach, to comprehend what is incomprehensible. 

10. Riches are servants to the wise; but they are tyrants 
over the soul of the fool. The covetous servetli his gold; it 
serveth not him; he possesseth his wealth as the sick doth a 
fever; it burneth and tortureth him, and will not quit him unto 
death. 

11. Poverty wanteth many things; but covetousness denieth 
itself all. The covetous can be good to no man; but he is to 
none so cruel as to himself. Be industrious to procure gold; 
and be generous in the disposal of it; man is never so happy 
as when hegiveth happiness unto another. 

12. If there be a vice greater than the hoarding up of riches; 
it is the employing them to useless purposes, lie that prodi¬ 
gally lavisheth that which he hath to spare, robbeth the poor 
of what nature hath given them a right unto. He who squan- 
dereth away his treasure, refuseth the means to do good: he 
denieth himself the practice of virtues whose reward is in 
his hand; whose end is no other than his own happiness. 

13. When thou hast taught thyself to bear the seeming good 
of men without repining, thou wilt hear of their real happiness 
with pleasure. If thou seest good tilings fall to one who de- 
servelh them, thou wilt rejoice in it; for virtue is happy in the 
prosperity of the virtuous. He who rejoiceth in the happiness 
of another, encreaseth by it his own. 

14. He that is truly virtuous, lovetli virtue for herself; he 
disdaineth the applause which ambition aimeth after. How 
pitiable were the state of virtue, if she could not be happy but 
from another’s praise! Pursue that which is honorable, do 
that whk h is right; and the applause of thine own coasciente 


136 


will be more joy to thee, than the shouts of millions who- 
know not that thou deservest them. 

15. The noblest employment of the mind of man is the 
study of the works of his Creator. To him whom the science 
of nature delighteth, every object bringeth a proof of his 
God; every thing that proveth it, giveth cause of adoration. 
Ilis mind is lifted up to heaven every moment; his life is 
one continued act of devotion. 

16. Casteth he Ids eye towards the clouds, findeth he not 
toe heavens full of his wonders? Looketh he down to the 
earth, doth not the worm proclaim to him, Less than Omni¬ 
potence could not have formed me? 

17. While the planets perform their courses; while the sun 
remaineth in his place; while the comet wandereth through 
the liquid air, and returneth to its destined road again; Who 
but thy God, O man! could have formed them? what but infin¬ 
ite wisdom could have appointed them their laws? 

18. Behold, how awful their splendor! yet do they not di¬ 
minish: Lo! how rapid their motions! yet one runneth not in 
the way of another. Look down upon the earth, and see her 
produce; examine her bowels, and behold what they contain! 
Hath not wisdom and power ordained the whole! 

19. Who biddeth the grass to spring up? who watereth 
it at its due seasons? Behold! the ox croppeth it; the horse 
and the sheep, feed they not. upon it? Who is he that provid- 
eth it for them? Wh o giveth increase to the corn which thou 
snwest? who returneth it to thee a thousand fold? 

20. What is the study of words compared with this? In what 
science is knowledge, but in the study of nature? Who is 
wise then, but he that knoweth it? who hath understanding, 
but he that contemplateth it? For the rest, whatever science 
hath most, utility, whatever knowledge hath least vanity, pre¬ 
fer these unto the others; and profit of them for the sake of 
thy neighbor. 

21. Piety to thy God, and benevolence to thy fellow crea¬ 
tures, are they not thy great duties? What shall teach thee 
the one, like the study of his works? what shall inform thee 
of the other like understanding thy dependencies? 

22. Wouldst thou learn to die nobly? let thy vices die be¬ 
fore thee. Happy is lie who emleth the business of his life 
before his death: who, when the hour of it cometh, hath no¬ 
thing to do but to die;, who wisheth not delay* because he hath 
rrp longer use for time; 


PART FIFTH* 


ABRIDGEMENT OF PENN’S MAXIMS, PALEY’S MORAL PHILO 
SOPHY, AND IvNIGGE’S PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIAL 
LIFE. 


CHAPTER i. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF WILLIAM PENN’S REFLECTIONS AND MAXIMS, 

RELATING TO THE CONDUCT OF HUMAN LIFE: AND HIS AD¬ 
VICE TO HIS CHILDREN. 

SECTION I. 

1. It is admirable to consider how many millions of people 
come into and go out of the world, ignorant of themselves, 
and of the world they have lived in. We are in pain to make 
our youth scholars, but not men; to talk, rather than to know; 
which is true canting. The first thing obvious to children is 
what is sensible; and that, we make no part of their rudi¬ 
ments. 

2. We press their memory too soon, and puzzle, strain, 
and load them with words and rules to know grammar and 
rhetoric, and a strange tongue or two, that it is ten to one 
may never be useful to them; leaving their natural genius to 
mechanical, and physical or natural knowledge uncultivated 
and neglected; which would be of exceeding use and plea¬ 
sure to them through the whole course of their lives. To be 
sure languages are not to be despised or neglected; but, things 
are still to be preferred. 

3. Lend not beyond thy ability, nor refuse to lend out of 
thy ability: especially when it will help others more than it 
can hurt thee. If thy debtor be honest and capable, thou 
hast thy money again, if not with increase, with praise. If 
he prove insolvent, do not ruin him to get that which it will 
not ruin thee to lose. 

4. Frugality is good, if liberality be joined with it. The 
first is leaving off superfluous expenses; the last bestowing 
them to the benefit »f others that need. The first, without 
the last, begins covetousness; the last, without the first, be- 

* 12 







iSS 


gi#s prodigality. Both together make an excellent temper* 
Happy the place where that is found. 

5. Were it universal, we should be cured of two extreme*, 
want and excess: and the one would supply the other, and so 
bring both nearer to a mean; the just degree of earthly hap¬ 
piness. It is a reproach to religion and government, to suf¬ 
fer so much poverty and excess. 

6. Were the superfluities of a nation valued, and made a 
perpetual tax for benevolence, there would be more alms 
houses than poor, schools than scholars, and enough to spare 
for government besides. 

7. Love labor: for if thou dost not want it for food, thou 
mayst for physic. It is wholesome for thy body, and good 
for thy mind. 

8. Neither urge another to that thou wouldst be unwilling 
tb do thyself: nor do thyself what looks to thee unseemly, and 
intemperate in another. 

9. The very trimming of the vain world would clothe all 
the naked one. If thou art clean and warm, it is sufficient; 
(or more doth but rob the poor, and please the wanton. 

10. If thou hast done an injury to another, rather own it 
than defend it. One way thou gainest forgiveness; the oth¬ 
er, thou doublest the wrong and reckoning. Some oppose 
honor to submission; but it can be no honor to maintain what 
it is dishonorable to do. True honor will pay treble damages, 
rather than justify one wrong by another. 

11. In such controversies, it is but too common for some 
to say, “ Both are to blame,” to excuse their own unconcern¬ 
edness; which is a base neutrality. Others will cry, “They 
are both alike;” thereby involving the injured with the guilty, 
to mince the matter for the faulty, or cover their own injus¬ 
tice to the wronged party. Fear and gain are great perver- 
ters of mankind: and where either prevails, the judgment is 
violated. 

12. If thou thinkest twice before thou speakest once, thoir 
wilt speak tw ice the better for it. Better say nothing, than 
not to the purpose. And to speak pertinently,consider both 
what is fit, and when it is fit, to speak. In all debates, let 
truth be thy aim; not victory, or an unjust interest: and en¬ 
deavor to gain, rather than to expose, thy antagonist. 

13. Believe nothing against another, but upon good autho¬ 
rity: nor report what may hurt another, unless it be a greater 
Hurt to others to conceal l& 


139 


14. Never assent merely to please others; for that, is, be¬ 
sides flattery, oftentimes untruth, and discovers a mind to be 
servile and base: nor contradict to vex others; for that shows 
an ill temper, and provokes, but profits nobody. 

15. Do not accuse others to excuse thyself ; for that is nei¬ 
ther generous nor just. But let sincerity and ingenuousness 
be thy refuge, rather than craft and falsehood: for cunning 
borders very near upon knavery. Wisdom never uses nor 
wants it. Cunning to the wise, is as an ape to a man. 

46. A man in business must put up with many affronts, if 
he loves his own quiet. We must not pretend to see all that 
we see, if we would be easy. It were endless to dispute up¬ 
on every thing that is disputable. A vindictive temper is 
not only uneasy to others, but to them that have it. 

17. Avoid, all thou canst, being entrusted; but do thy ut¬ 
most to discharge the trust thou undertakest; for carelessness 
is injurious, if not unjust. The glory of a servant is fidelity, 
which cannot be without diligence, as well as truth. 

18. Mix kindness with authority; and rule more by discre¬ 
tion than rigor. If thy servant be faulty, strive rather to con¬ 
vince him of his error, than to discover thy passion: and when 
he is sensible, forgive him. Let not thy children domineer 
over thy servants; nor sutler them to slight thy children. 


SECTION II. 

1. We are too careless of posterity; not considering that 
as they are, so the next generation will be. If we would 
amend the world, we should mend ourselves; and teach our 
children to be, not what we are, but what they should be* 
The country is both the philosophers garden and library, in 
which he reads and contemplates the power, wisdom, and 
goodness of God. It is his food, as well as study; and gives 
him life, as well as learning. 

2. The generality are the worse for their plenty. The 
voluptuous consumes it, the miser hides it; it is the good 
man that uses it, and to good purposes. 

3. Act not the shark upon thy neighbor; nor fake advan¬ 
tage of the ignorance, prodigality, or necessity of any one; 
for that is next door to a fraud, and, at best, makes but an 

unblessed gain. , ,_ . c 

4. Never esteem any man, or thyself, the more lor money; 




440 


nor think the meaner of thyself, or another, for want of it; 
virtue being the just reason of respecting, and the want of 
it of slighting, any one. A man, like a watch, is to be va¬ 
lued for his goings. 

5. They that show more than they are, raise an expec¬ 
tation they cannot answer; and so lose their credit, as soon 
as they are found out. He that does good for good’s sake, 
seeks neither praise nor reward, though sure of both at last. 
Content not thyself that thou art virtuous in the general; 
for one link being wanting, the chain is defective. If thou 
wouldst conquer thy weakness, thou must never gratify it. 
No man is compelled to evil; his consent only makes it his. 

6. Great allowances are made for education and personal 
weaknesses; but it is a rule with me, “ That man is truly 
religious, that loves the persuasion he is of for the piety, ra¬ 
ther than the ceremony, of it.” They that have one end, can 
hardly disagree when they meet. At least their concern in 
the greater, moderates their value for, and difference about, 
the lesser things. 

7. It is a sad reflection, that many men hardly have any 
religion at all, and most men have none of their own; for 
that which is the religion of their education, and not of their 
judgment, is the religion of another, and not theirs. To 
have religion upon authority, and not upon conviction, is 
like a finger-watch, to be set forwards or backwards, as he 
pleases that has it in keeping 

8. We are too ready to retaliate, rather than forgive, or 
gain by love and information. And yet we could hurt no man 
that we believe loves us. Let us, then, try what love will 
do; for if men do once see that we love them, we should soon 
find they would not harm us. Force may subdue, but love 
gains; and he that forgives first, wins the laurel. If I am 
even with my enemy, the debt is paid; but if I forgive it, I 
oblige him for ever. 

9. “ He that, lives in love, lives in God,” says the beloved 
disciple: and, to be sure, a man can live no where better. 
Love is above all; and when it prevails in us all, we shall 
all be lovely, and in love with God, and one with another. 

10. The wise man is cautious, but not cunning; judicious, 
but not crafty; making virtue the measure of using his ex¬ 
cellent understanding in the conduct of his life. The wise I 
man is equal, ready, but not officious; has in every thing an 
eye to sure footing; he offends no body, nor is easily offend- 


i4i 

and is always willing to compound for wrongs, if not 
forgive them. 

11 . He is never captious, nor critical; hates banter and 
jests; he may be pleasant, but not light; he never deals but 
in substantial ware, and leaves the rest for the toy-pates, (or 
shops,) of the world; which are so far from being his busi¬ 
ness, that they are not so much as his diversion. 

12 , He is always for some solid good, civil or moral: as to 
make his country more virtuous, preserve her peace and li¬ 
berty, employ her poor, improve land, advance trade, sup- 

f >ress vice, encourage industry, and all mechanical know- 
edge; and that they should be the care of the government, 
and the blessing and praise of the people. 

13. It is the mark of ill nature, to lessen good actions, 
and aggravate ill ones. Some men do as much begrudge 
others a good name, as they want one themselves; and per¬ 
haps that is the reason of it. Nothing shows more the folly,, 
as well as fraud of man, than clipping merit and reputation. 

14. This envy is the child of pride; and mis gives rather 
than mis-takes. It will have charity to be ostentation, so¬ 
briety, covetousness; humility, craft; bounty, popularity. In 
short, virtue must be design, and religion only interest. Nay, 
the best of qualities must not pass without a “but” to alloy 
their merit, and abate their praise. Basest of tempers! and 
they that have it, the worst of men. 

15. But just and noble minds rejoice in other men’s suc¬ 
cess, and help to augment their praise. And, indeed, they 
are not without a love to virtue, that take a satisfaction in 
seeing her rewarded; and such deserve to share her charac¬ 
ter, that do abhor to lessen it. 

16 . In all things reason should prevail: it is quite another 
thing to be slitV, than steady in an opinion. This may be 
reasonable, but that is ever wilful. Though there is a regard 
due to education, and the tradition of our fathers, truth will 
ever deserve,, as well as claim the preference. Truth never 
lost ground by inquiry; because she is, most of all, reason¬ 
able. 

17. If all men were so far tenants to the public, that the 
superfluities of gain and expense were applied to the exi¬ 
gencies thereof, it would put an end to taxes, leave not a beg¬ 
gar, and make the greatest bank for national trade in Europe. 
1 confess 1 have wondered that so many lawful and useful 
tilings are excised by laws, and pride left to reign free over 
them and the public. 





142 


18. It is but reasonable that the punishment of pride and 
excess should help to support the government; since it must 
otherwise inevitably be ruined by them. But some say, “ It 
ruins trade and will make the poor burdensome to the pub¬ 
lic;*’ but if such trade, in consequence, ruins the kingdom, is 
it not time to ruin that trade? Is moderation no part of our 
duty, and is temperance an enemy to government? 

19 Is there no better employment for the poor than luxu¬ 
ry? Miserable nation! What did they before they fell into 
these forbidden methods? Is there not land enough in Kng- , 
land [or America] to cultivate, and more and better manu¬ 
factures to be made? 

20. Have we no room for them in our plantations, about 
things that may augment trade, without luxury? In short, 
let pride pay, and excess be well excised; and if that will not 
cure the people, it will help to keep the government. 

21. It is a dangerous perversion of the design of Provi¬ 
dence, to consume the time, power and wealth, he has given 
ns above other men, to gratify our sordid passions, instead 
of playing the good stewards, to the honor of our great Be¬ 
nefactor and the good of our fellow creatures. 

22. When the poor Indians hear us call an}' of our family 
by the name of servants, they cry out, “ What! call bre¬ 
thren servants! we call our dogs servants, but never men.’* 
The moral certainly can do us no harm, but may instruct j 
us to abate our height and narrow our slate and attendance. 

23. Charity has various senses, but is excellent in all of , 
them. It imparts, first, the commiseration of the poor and j 
unhappy of mankind, and extends a helping hand to mend 
their condition. 

24. I will not say these works are meritorious, but I dare 
say they are acceptable, and go not without their reward; 
though, to humble us in our fullness, and liberality too, we on¬ 
ly give what is given to us to give, as well as to use: for if we 
ourselves are not our own, less is that so, which God has en- j 
trusted us with. 

25. Next, charity makes the best construction of things 
and persons; and is so far from being an evil spy, a back-bi¬ 
ter, or a detractor, that it excuses weakness, extenuates mis¬ 
carriages, makes the best of every thing, forgives every body* 
serves all, and hopes to the end. 

26. It moderatesextremes, is always for expedients, labors 
to accommodate differences, and had rather suffer than re* 




143 


venge: and is so far from exacting the utmost farthing, that it 
had rather lose, than seek its own violently. As it acts free¬ 
ly, so zealously too; but it is always to do good, for it hurts 
nobody. 

27. An universal enemy against discord, and a holy ce¬ 
ment. for mankind. And lastly, it is love to God and the 
brethren, which raises the soul above all worldly considera¬ 
tions; and as it gives a taste of heaven upon earth, so it is 
heaven, in the fullness of it, to the truly charitable here. 

28. Would to God this divine virtue were more implanted 
and diffused among mankind, the pretenders to Christianity 
especially; and we should certainly mind piety more than 
controversy; and exercise love and compassion, instead of 
censuring and persecuting one another, in any manner what¬ 
soever. 


SECTION III. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE ADVICE OF WILLIAM PENN TO HIS CHIL¬ 
DREN. 

JWy dear Children , 

1. Not knowing how long it may please God to continue 
me among you, I am willing to embrace this opportunity of 
leaving you my advice and counsel, with respect to your 
Christian and civil capacity and duty in this world: and I 
both beseech you, and change you, by the relation you have to 
me, and the affection I have always shown to, and indeed re¬ 
ceived from, you, that you lay up the same in your hearts, as 
well as your heads, with a wise and religious care. 

2 . I will begin with that which is the beginning of all true 
wisdom and happiness, the holy fear of God. Children, fear 
God; that is to say, have a holy awe upon your minds, to avoid 
that which is evil,"and a strict care to embrace and do that 
which is good. 

3 . Prefer the aged, the virtuous, and the knowing; and 
choose those that excel, for your company and friendship, 
but despise not others. 

4 . Return no answer to anger, unless with much meekness, 
' which often turns it away: but rarely make replies, less re¬ 
joinders; for that adds fuel to the fire. It is a wrong time t® 
vindicate yourselves, the true ear being then never open to 
'hear it. Men are not themselves, and know not well what 




144 


spirits they are of; silence to passion, prejudice and mocke¬ 
ry, is the best answer, and often conquers what resistance in¬ 
flames. 

5. Learn, and teach your children, fair writing, and the 
most useful parts of mathematics, and some business, when 
young, whatever else they are taught. Cast up your incomes 
and live on half; if you can, one third; reserving the rest for 
casualties, charities, portions. 

6. The pomp, honor, and luxury of the world are the cheats, 
and the unthinking and inconsiderate are taken by them. But 
the retired man is upon higher ground, he sees and is aware 
of the trick, contemns the Folly, and bemoans the deluded. 

7. Tiiis very consideration, doubtless, produced those 
two passions in the two greatest Gentiles of their time, 
Democritus and Heraclitus, the one laughing the other weep¬ 
ing, for the madness of the world, to see so excellent, reason¬ 
able a creature as man, so meanly, trifling, and slavishly em¬ 
ployed. 

8. He lives happily, that lives privately, for he lives qui¬ 
etly. It is a treasure to them that have it: study it, get 
It, keep it: t*>o many miss it that might have it: the world 
knows not the value of it. It doubles a man’s life, by giving 
him twice the time to himself, that a large acquaintance or 
much business will allow him. 

9. Be entreatable. Never aggravate. Never revile, or 
give ill names. It is unmannerly, as well as unchristian. Be 
not morose nor conceited; one is rude, the other troublsome 
and nauseous. 

10. Be humble: it becomes a creature, a depending and bor¬ 
rowed being, that lives not of itself, but breathes in another’s 
air, with another’s breath, and is accountable for every mo¬ 
ment of time, and can call nothing its own, but is absolutely 
a tenant at will of the great Lord of heaven and earth. 

11. Humility seeketh not the last word, nor first place; she 
offends none, but prefers others, and thinks lowly of herself; 
is not rough or self conceited, high, loud, or domineering; 
blessed are they that enjoy her. 

12. A meek man is one that is not easily provoked, yet 
easily grieved; not peevish or testy, but soft, gentle, and in¬ 
offensive. 0 blessed will you be, my dear children, if this 

t race adorn you. Patience is an effect of a meek spirit, and 
ows from it: it is a bearing and suffering disposition; not 



145 


choleric or soon moved to wrath, or vindictive; but ready to 
hear and endure too, rather than be swift and hasty in judg¬ 
ment or- action. 

13. Show mercy whenever it is in your power; that is, for¬ 
give, pity, and help, for so it signifies. But the merciful 
man’s mercy reaches farther, even to his beast; then surely 
to man, his fellow creature, he shall not want it. Wherefore 
I charge you, oppress nobody, man nor beast. 

14. Take no advantage upon the unhappy, pity the afflicted, 
make the case your own, and that of their wives and poor in¬ 
nocent children the condition of yours, and you cannot want 
sympathy, forgiveness, nor a disposition to help and succour 
them to your ability. 

15. Charity is a near neighbor to mercy; it is generally taken 
to consist in this, not to be censorious, and to relieve the 
poor. Be clear yourselves before you fling the stone. Get 
the beam out of your own eye; it is humbling doctrine but 
safe. 

16. This part of charity also excludes whispering, back¬ 
biting, tale bearing, evil surmising; most pernicious follies and 
evils, of which beware. For the other part of charity, reliev¬ 
ing the poor, it is a debt you owe to God: you have all you 
have or may enjoy, with the rent charge upon it. 

17. I recommend little children, widows, infirm and aged 
persons, chiefly to you. Avoid that great sin of needless ex¬ 
pense on your persons and on your houses, while the poor are 
hungry and naked: my bowels have often been moved, to see 
very aged and infirm people, but especially poor helpless 
children, lie all night, in bitter weather, at the threshholds of 
doors in the open streets, for want of better lodging. 

18. I have made this reflection, if you were so exposed, 
how hard would it be to endure? The difference between our 
condition and theirs has drawn from me humble thanks to 
God, and great compassion and some supply to those poor 
creatures. Once more, be good to the poor: what do I say? 
Be just to them, and you will be good to yourselves: think it 
vour duty, and do it religiously. 

19. Liberality or bounty is a noble quality in man, en¬ 
tertained of few, yet praised of all, but the covetous dislike 
it, because it reproaches their sordidness. In this she differs 
from charity, that she has sometimes other objects, and ex¬ 
ceeds in proportion. For she will cast her eye on those that 

13 


146 


do not absolutely want, as well as those that do; and always 
outdoes necessities and services. 

20. She finds out virtue in a low degree, and exalts it. She 
eases their burden that labor hard to live. The decayed are 
sure to hear other. She takes one child, puts out another, 
to lighten the loads of over-charged parents; more to the fa¬ 
therless. 

21. Wheresoever, therefore, my dear children, liberality is 
required of you, God enabling ot you, sow not sparingly nor 
grudgingly, but with a cheerful mind, and you shall not go 
without your reward; though that ought not to be your mo¬ 
tive. But avoid ostentation, for that is using virtue to vani¬ 
ty, which will run you to profuseness, and that to want; which 
begets greediness, and that avarice, the contrary extreme. 

22. Integrity is a great and commendable virtue. A man 
of integrity, is a true man, a bold man, and a steady man; he 
is to be trusted and relied upon. No bribes can corrupt him, 
no fear daunt him: his word is slow in coming, but sure. He 
runs with truth, and not with the times. 

23. There is no living upon the principal, you must be di¬ 
ligent to preserve what you have, whether it be acquisition 
or inheritance; else it will consume. As I would have you 
liberal, but not prodigal; and diligent, but not drudging; so 1 
would have you frugal, but not sordid. 

24. You cannot be too plain in your diet, so you are clean; 
nor too sparing, so you have enough for nature. Much less 
feast any, except the poor; as Christ taught. Luke xvi. 
12, 13. For entertainments are rarely without sin; but re¬ 
ceive strangers readily. 

25. As in diet, so in apparel, observe, I charge you, an ex¬ 
emplary plainness. Choose your clothes for their usefulness, 
not the fashion, and for covering, not finery, or to please a 
vain mind in yourselves or others: they are fallen souls, that 
think clothes can give beauty to man. 

26. “ The life is more than the raiment.” Mat. vi.25. Man 
cannot mend God’s work, who can give neither life nor parts. 
They shew little esteem for the wisdom and power of their 
Creator, that underrate his workmanship, (t was going to say, 
his image) to a tailor’s invention: gross folly and profanity! 

27. In short, these intemperances are great enemies to 
health, and to posterity; for they r disease the body, rob child - 
len, and disappoint charity, and are of evil example; very 
catching, as w r ell as pernicious evils. Nor do they end there: 


147 


they are succeeded by other vices, which made the apostle 
put them together in his epistle to the Galatians, chap. v.20,21. 

28. The evil fruits of this part of intemperance, are so many 
and great, that, upon a serious reflection, 1 believe there is not 
ft country, town, or family, almost, that does not labor under 
the mischief of it. 

29. But the virtue of temperance does not only regard eat¬ 
ing, drinking, and apparel, but furniture, attendance, expense^ 
gain, parsimony, business, diversion, company, speech, sleep¬ 
ing, watchings, and every passion of the mind, love, anger, 
pleasure, joy, sorrow, resentment, are all concerned in it: 
therefore, bound your desires, teach your wills subjection, 
take Christ for your example, as well as guide. 


CHAPTER 2. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF THE PRINCIPLES OF MORAL AND POLITICAL 
PHILOSOPHY. BY WM. PALEY, D. D. 

SECTION I. 

DEFINITION AND USE OF THE SCIENCE. 

1. Moral philosophy, morality, ethics, casuistry, natural law, 
mean all the same thing; namely, That science which teaches 
men their duty , and the reasons of it. The use of such a study 
depends upon this, that, without it, the rules of life by which 
men are ordinarily governed, oftentimes mislead them, 
through a defect either in the rule, or in the application. 
These rules are, the law of honor, the law of the land, and 
the scriptures. 

£. The law of honor. —The law of honor is a system of rules 
constructed by people of fashion, and calculated to facilitate 
their intercourse with one another; and for no other purpose. 
Consequently, nothing is adverted to by the law of honor, but 
what tends to incommode this intercourse. Hence, this law 
only prescribes and regulates the duties betwixt equals; omit¬ 
ting such as relate to the Supreme Being, as well as those which 
we owe to our inferiors. 

3. The law of the land. —That part of mankind who are be¬ 
neath the law of honor, often make the law of the land their 
rule of life; that is, they are satisfied with themselves, so long 
as they do or omit nothing* for the doing or omitting of which 
the Jaw can punish them. 




148 


4. Whereas, every system of human taws, considered as a 
rule of life, labors under the two following defects: 1. Hu¬ 
man laws omit many duties, as not objects of compulsion; 
such as piety to God, bounty to the poor, forgiveness of inju¬ 
ries, education of children, gratitude to benefactors. 2. Hu¬ 
man laws permit, or what is the same, suffer to go unpunished, 
many crimes, because they are incapable of being defined by 
any previous description: of which nature, are luxury, prodi¬ 
gality, disrespect to parents, &c. 

5. The Scriptures .—Whoever expects to find in the scrip¬ 
tures a specific direction for every moral doubt that arises, 
looks for more than he will meet with. And to what a mag¬ 
nitude such a detail of particular precepts would have en¬ 
larged the sacred volume, may be partly understood from the 
foilowing consideration:— 

6. The laws of this country, (England,) including the acte 
of the legislature, and the decisions of our supreme courts of 
justice, are not contained in fewer than fifty folio volumes; 
and yet it is not once in ten attempts that you can find the 
case you look for, in any law book whatever; to say nothing 
of those numerous points of conduct, concerning which the 
law professes not to prescribe or determine any thing. 

7. Had then the same particularity, which obtains in human 
law so far as they go, been attempted in the scriptures, 
throughout the whole extent of morality, it is manifest they 
would have been by much too bulky to be either read or circu¬ 
lated; or rather, as St. John says, “ even the world itself could 
not contain the books that should be written.” 


SECTION II. 

HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

J. It will be our business to show, if we can: 

L What human happiness does not consist in; 

II. What it does consist in. 

2. First then, happiness does not consist in the pleasures 
of sense, in whatever profusion or variety they may be en¬ 
joyed. By thepleasures of sense I mean, as well the animal 
gratifications of eating, drinking, &c. as the more refined 
pleasures of music, painting, architecture, gardening, splen¬ 
did shows, theatric exhibitions, and the pleasures, lastly, of 
active sports, as of hunting, shooting, fishing, &c. For* 



149 


3. 1st. These pleasures continue but a little while at a 
time. This is true of them all, especially of the grosser sort 
of them.' Laying aside the preparation and the expectation, 
and computing strictly the actual sensation, we shall be sur¬ 
prised to find how inconsiderable a portion of our time they 
occupy, how few hours, in the four and twenty, they are able 
to fill up. 

4. 2dly. These pleasures, by repetition, lose their relish. 
It is a property of the machine, for which we know no re¬ 
medy, that the organs, by which we perceive pleasure, are 
blunted and benumbed by being frequently exercised in the 
same way. There is hardly any one who has not found the 
difference between a gratification when new, and when fa¬ 
miliar; or any pleasure which does not become indifferent 
as it grows habitual. 

5. Sdly. The eagerness for high and intense delights takes 
away the relish from all others; and as such delights fall 
rarely in our way, the greater part of our time becomes, from 
this cause, empty and uneasy. 

C. There is hardly any delusion by which men are greater 
sufferers in their happiness, than by their expecting too much 
from what is called pleasure; that is, from those intense de¬ 
lights which vulgarly engross the name of pleasure. The 
very expectation spoils them. When they do come, we are 
often engaged in taking pains to persuade ourselves how 
mu^h we are pleased, rather than enjoying any pleasure that 
springs naturally out of the object. 

7. And whenever we depend upon being vastly delighted, 
we always go home secretly grieved at missing our aim. 
Likewise, as hath been observed just now, when this humor 
of being prodigiously delighted has once taken hold of the 
imagination, it hinders us from providing for, or acquiescing 
in, those gently soothing engagements, the due variety and 
succession of which are the only things that supply a con¬ 
tinued stream of happinesg. 

8. What I have been able to observe of that part of man¬ 
kind whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and who are with¬ 
held in the pursuit by no restraints of fortune, or scruples 
of conscience, corresponds sufficiently with this account. I 
have commonly remarked, in such men, a restless and inextin¬ 
guishable passion for variety; a great part of their time to 
be vacant, and so much of it irksome; and that, with what¬ 
ever eagerness and expectation they set out, they become, 

* 13 



150 


by degrees, fastidious in their choice of pleasure, languid in 
the enjoyment, yet miserable under the want of it. 

9. The truth seems to be that there is a limit at which the 
pleasures soon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards 
decline. They are of necessity of short duration, as the or¬ 
gans cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length 
of time; and if you endeavor to compensate for the imper¬ 
fection in their nature, by the frequency with which you re¬ 
peat them, you lose more than you gain, by the fatigue of the 
faculties and the diminution of sensibility. 

10. We have said nothing in this account of the loss of 
opportunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever 
they happen, leave the voluptuary destitute and desperate, 
teased by desires which can never be gratified, and the me¬ 
mory of pleaures which must return no more. 

11. It will also be allowed by those who have experienced 
it, and perhaps by those alone, that pleasure which is pur¬ 
chased by the incumbrance of our fortune is purchased too 
dear; the pleasure never compensating for the perpetual ir¬ 
ritation of embarrassed circumstances. 

12. These pleasures, after all, have their value: and as the 
young are alwaj r s too eager in their pursuit of them, the old 
are sometimes too remiss; that is, too studious of their ease 
to be at the pains for them, w'hich they really deserve. 

13. Secondly. Neither does happiness consist in an ex¬ 
emption from pain, labor, care, business, suspense, moles¬ 
tation, and “those evils which are without;’’ such a state 
being usually attended not with ease, but w ith depression of 
spirits, a tastelessness in all our ideas, imaginary anxieties, 
and the whole train of hypochondriacal affections. 

14. For which reason, it seldom answers the expectations 
of those who retire from their shops and counting hou>es to 
enjoy the remainder of their days in leisure and tranquillity 
much less of such as in a fit ot chagrin shut themseleves up 
in cloisters and hermitages, or quit the w r orld and their sta¬ 
tions in it, for solitude and repose. 

15. Thirdly. Neither does happiness consist in greatness, 
rank or elevated station. No superiority appears to be of 
any account but superiority over a rival. ” Philosophy smiles 
at the contempt with which the rich and great speak of the 
petty strifes and competitions of the poor, not reflecting that 
th,ese strifes and competitions are just as reasonable as their 
own, and the pleasure, which success affords, the same. 


151 


16. Our position is, that happiness does not consist in great¬ 
ness. And this position we make out by showing, that even 
what are supposed to he the peculiar advantages of greatness, 
the pleasures of ambition and superiority, are, in reality, com¬ 
mon to all conditions. 

17. All that can be said is, that there remains a presump¬ 
tion in favor of those conditions of life in which men gene¬ 
rally appear most cheerful and contented. For though the 
apparent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure 
of their real happiness, it is the best measure we have. 

18. Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to believe that 
happiness consists, 

I. In the exercise of the social affections. Those persons 
commonly possess good spirits who have about them many 
objects of affection and endearment, as wife, children, kin¬ 
dred, friends. And to the want of these may be imputed the 
peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a monastic life. 

19. Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domes¬ 
tic affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the 
plea-ure which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, 
exercised either in giving money, or in imparting to those 
who want it, the assistance of our skill and profession. 

20. Another main article of human happiness is, 

II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind, 
in the pursuit of some engaging end. It seems to be true, 
that no plenitude of present gratifications, can make the pos¬ 
sessor happy for a continuance, unless he have something in 
reserve—something to hope for, and look forward to. 

21. This 1 conclude to be the case from comparing the 
alacrity and spirits of men, who are engaged in any pursuit 
which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of almost 
all, who are either born to so much that they want nothing 
more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and 
drained the sources of them. Hence those pleasures are most 
valuable, not which is most excellent in the fruition, but 
which are most productive of engagement and activity in the 
pursuit. 

2-2. Engagement is every thing. The more significant,how- 
eveivour engagements are, the better; such as the planning 
of laws, institutions, manufactures, charities, improvements, 
public works; and the endeavoring, by our intei e»t, addi ess, 
solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect; or upon 



152 


a smaller scale, the procuring of maintenance and fortune 
for our families, by a course of industry and application to 
our callings, which forms and gives motion to the common oc¬ 
cupations of life; 

23. Training up a child; prosecuting a scheme for his fu¬ 
ture establishment; making ourselves masters of a language 
or a science; improving or managing an estate; laboring after 
a piece of preferment; and lastly, any engagement, which is 
innocent, is better than none; as the writing of a book, the 
building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of 
a fish-pond; even the raising of a cucumber or a tulip. 

24. Whilst the mind is taken up with the objects of busi¬ 
ness before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object 
or business be: when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are 
wandering to something else than what is passing in the place 
in which w r e are, we are often miserable. 

25. III. Happiness depends upon the prudent constitution 
of the habits. The art in which the secret of human happi¬ 
ness in a great measure consists, is to set the habits in such a 
manner, that every change may be a change for the better. 
The habits themselves, are much the same; for whatever 
is made habitual, becomes smooth, and easy, and nearly in¬ 
different. 

26. The return to an old habit is likewise easy, whatever 
the habit be. Therefore, the advantage is with those habits 
which allow of indulgence in the deviation from them. The 
luxurious receive no greater pleasure, from their dainties, 
than the peasam does from his bread and cheese; but the 
peasant whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast; whereas, the 
epicure must be well entertained to escape disgust. 

2 7 .IV. Happiness consists in health. By health I under¬ 
stand,as well freedom from bodily distempers, as that tranquil¬ 
lity, firmness, and alacrity of mind, which we call good spirits; 
and which may properly enough be included in our notion of 
health, as depending commonly upon the same causes, and 
yielding to the same management, as our bodily constitution. 

28. Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful. There¬ 
fore no pains, expense, self-denial, or restraint, to which we 
subject ourselves, for the sake of health, is too much. Whe¬ 
ther it require us to relinquish lucrative situations, to abstain 
from favorite indulgences, to control intemperate passions, 
or undergo tedious regimens; whatever difficulties it lays us 







153 


under, a man who pursues his happiness rationally and res©"? 
lutely, will be content to submit to. 

29. When we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in 
ourselves a happiness independent of any particular outward 
gratification whatever, and of which we can give no account. 
This is an enjoyment which the Deity has annexed tolife; and 
probably constitutes, in a great measure, the happiness of 
infants and brutes, especially of the lower and sedentary or¬ 
ders of animals, as of oysters, periwinkles, and the like; for 
which 1 have sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement. 

30. The above account of human happiness will justify the 
two following conclusions, which, although found in most 
books of morality, have seldom, I think, been supported by 
any sufficient reasons. First, That happiness is pretty equal¬ 
ly distributed amongst the different orders of civil society. 
Secondly, That vice has no advantage over virtue, even with 
respect to this w orld’s happiness. 


SECTION III. 

VIRTUE. 

1. The four Cardinal virtues are, prudence, fortitude^ tem* 
peranee, and justice. But the division of virtue, to which we 
are now adays most accustomed, is into duties. Towards God; 
as piety, reverence, resignation, gratitude, &c. Towards 
other men (or relative duties;) as justice, charity, fidelity, &c. 
Towards ourselves; as chastity, sobriety, temperance, pre¬ 
servation of life, care of health, &c. 

2. I shall proceed to state a few observations, which relate 
to the general regulation of human conduct; unconnected in- 
deed.with each other, but very worthy of attention;—Mankind 
act more from habit than reflection. 

3. It is on few, only, and great occasions, that men deli¬ 
berate at all; on few er still, that they institute any thing like 
a regular inquiry into the moral rectitude or depravity of 
what they are about to do; or wait for the result of it. We 
are for the most part determined at once; and by an impulse, 
which is the effect and energy of pre-established habits. And 
this constitution seems well adapted to the exigencies of hu¬ 
man life, and to the imbecility of our moral principle. 

4. If we are in so great a degree passive under our habits, 
where, it is asked, is the exercise of virtue, tlie guilt of vice, 



154 


or any use of moral and religious knowledge? I answer, in the 
Jorming and contracting of these habits. There are habits, 
not only of drinking, swearing, and lying, and of some other 
things, which are commonly acknowledged to be habits, and 
called so; but of every modification of action, speech, and 
thought. Man is a bundle of habits. 

5. There are habits of industry, attention, vigilance, adver¬ 
tency; of a prompt obedience to the judgment occurring, or 
of yielding to the first impulse of passion; of extending our 
views to the future, or ot resting upon the present; of appre¬ 
hending, methodizing, reasoning; of indolence and dilatori¬ 
ness; of vanity, self-conceit, melancholy, partiality; of fret- 
fulness, suspicion, captiousness, censoriousness; of pride, am¬ 
bition, covetousness; of overreaching, intriguing, projecting. 
In a word, there is not a quality, or function, either of bo¬ 
dy or mind, which does not feel the influence of this great law 
of animated nature. 

6. Without entering into a detail of scripture morality, 
Which would anticipate our subject, the following general 
positions may be advanced, I think, with safety: 1. That a 
state of happiness is not to be expected by those who are con¬ 
scious of no moral or religious rule. 2. That a state of hap¬ 
piness is not to be expected by those who reserve to them¬ 
selves the habitual practice ot any one sin, or neglect of one 
known duty. 


SECTION IV. 

MORAL OBLIGATION. THE WILL OF GOD. 

1. Why am I obliged to keep my word? Because it is right, 
Aays one. Because it is agreeable to the fitness of things, 
says another. Because it is conformable to reason and na¬ 
ture, says a third. Because it is conformable to truth, says a 
fourth. Because it promotes the public good, says a fifth. 
Because it is required by the will of God, concludes a sixth. 

2. Upon which different accounts, two things are observa¬ 
ble: First, That they all ultimately coincide. The fitness of 
things, means their fitness to produce happiness: the, nature 
of things, means that actual constitution of the world, by 
which some things, as such and such actions, for example, 
produce happiness, and others misery: reason is the princi¬ 
ple, by which we discover or judge of this constitution: truth 
is this judgment expressed or drawn out into propositions. 




155 


3. So that it necessarily comes to pass, that whatever pro¬ 
motes the public happiness, or happiness upon the whole, is 
agreeable to the fitness of things, to nature, to reason, and to 
truth: and such (as will appear by and by) is the divine cha¬ 
racter, that what promotes the general happiness, is required 
by the will of God; and vvliat has all the above properties, 
must needs be right; for right means no more than conformi¬ 
ty to the rule we go by, whatever that rule be. 

4. And this is the reason that moralists, from whatever dif¬ 
ferent principles they set out, commonly meet in their con¬ 
clusions; that is, they enjoin the same conduct, prescribe the 
same rules of duty, and, with a few exceptions, deliver upon 
dubious cases the same determinations. 

5. The proper method of conducting the inquiry is, first to 
examine what we mean when we say a man is obliged to do 
any thing, and then to show why he is obliged to do the thing 
which we have proposed as an example, namely, “ to keep his 
word.” 

6 . A man is to be said to be obliged, “ ivhen he is urged by a 
violent motive resulting from the command of another” 
Whenever the motive is violent enough, and coupied with the 
idea of command, authority, law, or the will of a superior, then, 
I take it, we always reckon ourselves to be obliged. 

7. And from this account of obligation it follows, that we 
can be obliged to nothing, but what we ourselves are to gain 
or lose something by; for nothing else can be a “ violent mo¬ 
tive” to us. As we should not be obliged to obey the laws,or 
the magistrate, unless rewards or punishments, pleasure or 
pain, some how or other depended upon our obedience; so nei¬ 
ther should we, without the same reason, be obliged to do 
what is right, to practise virtue, or to obey the commands of 
God. 

8. Let it be remembered, that to be obliged, “ is to be urg¬ 
ed by a violent motive resulting from the command of ano¬ 
ther.” Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and the 
will of God our rule. 

9. When I first turned my thoughts to moral speculations, 
an air of mystery seemed to hang over the whole subject; 
which rose, I believe, from hence: that I supposed with many 
authors whom 1 had read, that to be obliged to do a thing was 
very different from being induced only to do it; and that the 
obligation to practise virtue, to do what is right, just, &c. was 
quite another thing, and of another kind, than the obligation 


156 


'which a soldier is under to obey his officer, a servant his mas¬ 
ter, or any of the civil and ordinary obligations of human life. 

10. Whereas, from what has been said it appears, that mo¬ 
ral obligation is like all other obligations; and that all obliga¬ 
tion is nothing more than an inducement of sufficient strength, 
and resulting in some way, from the command of another. 

11. As the will of God is our rule, to inquire what is Our 
duty, or what We are obliged to do, in any instance, is, in ef¬ 
fect, to inquire what is the will of God in that instance? 
which consequently becomes the whole business of morality. 

12. The method of coming at the will of God concerning 
any action, by the light of nature, is to inquire into the “ten¬ 
dency of the action to promote or diminish the general happi¬ 
ness.” This rule proceeds upon the presumption, that God 
Almighty wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures; and 
consequently, that those actions, which promote that will 
and wish, must be agreeable to him; and the contrary. 

13. As* this presumption is the foundation of our whole 
system, it becomes necessary to explain the reasons upoii 
which it rests. 


SECTION V. 

THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE. 

1. When God created the human species, either he wished 
their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was indiffer¬ 
ent and unconcerned about both. 

2. If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure 
of his purpose, by forming our senses to be as many sores and 
pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification and 
enjoyment; or by placing us amidst objects so ill suited to 
our perceptions, as to have continually c ftended us, instead 
of ministering to our refreshment and delight. He might 
have made, for example, every thing we tasted bitter; every 
thin» we saw loathsome; every thing we touched a sting; every 
smell a stench; and every sound a discord. 

3. If he had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, 
we must impute to our good fortune (as all design by this 
supposition is excluded,) both the capacity of our senses to 
receive pleasure, and the supply of external objects fitted to 
produce it. 

4. But either of these, and still more both of them, beino- 
too much to be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the 



157 


first supposition, that God, when he created the human spe¬ 
cies, wished their happiness, and made for them t he provision 
which he has made, with that view, and for that purpose. 

5. 'Fhe same argument may be proposed in different terms, 
thus: Contrivance proves design; and the predominant ten¬ 
dency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of the de¬ 
signer. The world abounds with contrivances; and ali the 
contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed to 
beneficial purposes. 

6. Kvil no doubt exists; but is never, that we can perceive, 
the object of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to 
ache; their aching now and then is incidental to the contriv¬ 
ance, perhaps, inseparable irom it; or even, if you will, let it 
be called a defect in the contrivance; but it is not the object 
of it. Tins is a distinction which well deserves to be attend¬ 
ed to. 

7. In describing implements of husbandry, you would hard¬ 
ly say of a sickle, that it is made to cut the reaper’s fingers, 
though from the construction of the instrument, and the man¬ 
ner of using it, this mischief often happens. 

8. But if you had occasion to describe instruments of tor¬ 
ture or execution, this engine, you would say, is to extend 
the sinews; this to dislocate the joints; this to break the bones; 
this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here pain and misery 
are the very objects of the contrivance. Now' nothing of this 
sort is to be found in.the works of nature. We never dis¬ 
cover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. 

9. No anatomist ever discovered a system of organization 
calculated to produce pain and disease; or, in explaining the 
parts of the human body, ever said, this is to irritate; this to 
inflame; this duct is to convey the gravel to the kidneys; this 
gland to secr ete the humor which forms the gout: if by chance 
he comes at a part of which he knows not the use, the most 
he can say i-, that it is useless; no one ever suspects that it 
is put there to incommode, to annoy or torment. 

" 10. Since, then, God hath called forth his consummate 
wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and the 
world appears to have been constituted with this design at 
firsr, so long as this constitution is uphoiden by him, we must 
in reason suppose the same design to continue. 

11. The contemplation of universal nature rather bewil¬ 
ders the mind than affects it. There is always a bright spot 
in the prospect upon which the eye rests; a single example, 
14 


158 


perhaps, by which each man finds himself more convinced 
than by all others put together. I seem, for my own part, \ 
to see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in the plea* 
sures of very young children than in any thing in the world. 

12. The pleasure of grown persons may be reckoned part¬ 
ly of their own procuring; especially if there has been any 
industry, or contrivance, or pursuit, to come at them; or if 
they are founded, like music, painting, &c. upon any qualifi¬ 
cation of their own acquiring. 

13. But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifest¬ 
ly provided for it by another , and the benevolence of the 
provision is so unquestionable, that every child I see at its 
sport affords to my mind a kind of sensible evidence of the 
finger of God, and of the disposition which directs it. 

14. But the example which strikes each man most strong¬ 
ly is, the true example for him; and hardly two minds hit 
upon the same; which shows the abundance of such exam¬ 
ples about us. 

15. We conclude, therefore, that God wills and wishes 
the happiness of his creatures. And this-conclusion being 
once established, we are at liberty to go on with the rule built 
upon it, namely, “ that the method of coming at the will of 
God, concerning any action by the light of nature, is to in¬ 
quire into the tendency of that action to promote or dimi¬ 
nish the general happiness.” 


SECTION VI. 

UTILITY.-THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES.-OF RIGHT. 

1. So then actions are to be estimated bv their tendency. 
W hateirer is expedient is right. It is the utility of any mo¬ 
ral rule alone which constitutes the obligation of it. You 
cannot permit one action and forbid another, without show¬ 
ing a difference between them. Consequently, the same 
sort of actions must be generally permitted or generally for¬ 
bidden. 

2. Where, therefore, the general permission of them would 
be pernicious, it becomes necessary to lay down and sup¬ 
port the rule which generally forbids them. Thus, to return 
once more to the case of the assassin. The assassin knock¬ 
ed the riel! villain on the head, because he thought him bet¬ 
ter out of the way than in it. 



159 


S. If you allow this excuse in the present instance, you 
must allow it to all who act in the same manner and from 
the same motive; that is, you must allow every man to kill 
any one he meets, whom he thinks noxious or useless; which, 
in the event, would be to commit every man’s life and safety 
to the spleen, fury, and fanaticism of his neighbor—a dispo¬ 
sition of affairs which would soon fill the world with mise¬ 
ry and confusion, and ere long put an end to human society, 
if not to the human species. 

4. “ Whatever is expedient is right.” But then it must 
be expedient upon the whole, at the long run, in all its ef¬ 
fects, collateral and remote, as well as in those which are 
immediate and direct; as it is obvious, that, in computing 
consequences, it makes no difference in what way or at what 

j distance they ensue. 

5. From the principles delivered in this and the two pre¬ 
ceding chapters, a maxim may be explained, which is in 
every man’s mouth, and in most men’s without meaning, viz. 
“ not to do evil that good may come;” that is, let us not vio¬ 
late a general rule for the sake of any particular good con¬ 
sequence we may expect. 

6. Which is, for the most part, a salutary caution, the ad¬ 
vantage seldom compensating for the violation of the rule. 
Strictly speaking, that cannot be ‘‘evil” from which “good 
comes;” but in tins wav, and with a view to the distinction 
between particular and general consequences, it may* 

7. Now, because moral obligation depends, as vve have 
seen, upon the will of God, right, which is correlative to it, 
must depend upon the same. Right, therefore, signifies con¬ 
sistency with the will of God. 

SECTION VII. 

rUOMISES-CONTRACTS OF SALE-CONCERNING THE LENDING 

OF MONEY-OF LABOR. 

1. From whence the obligation to perform promises arises. 
They who argue from innate, moral principles, suppose a 
sense of the obligation of promises to be one of them; but, 
without assuming this, or any thing else, without proof, the 
obligation to perform promises may be deduced from the ne¬ 
cessity of such a conduct to the well being, or the existence, 
indeed, of human society. 








160 


2. Men act from expectation. Expectation is, in most 
cases, determined by the assurances and engagements which 
we receive from others. If no dependence could be placed 
upon these assurances, it would be impossible to know what 
judgment to form of many future events, or how to regulate 
our conduct with respect to them. 

3. Confidence, therefore, in promises, is essential to the 
intercourse of human life; because, without it, the greatest 
part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there 
could be no confidence in promises, if men w ere not obliged 
to perform them: the obligation, therefore, to perform pro¬ 
mises, is esssential to the same end and in the same degree. 

4. The rule of justice which wants most to be inculcated 
in the making of bargains, is, that the seller is bound in con¬ 
science to disclose the faults of what he offers for sale. 

5. To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put 
off may be referred the practice of passing bad money. This 
practice we sometimes hear defended by a vulgar excuse, 
that we have taken the money for good, and therefore must 
|*et rid of it. Which excuse is much the same as if one, who 
hud been robbed upon the highway, should allege he had a 
right to reimburse himself out of the pocket of the first tra¬ 
veller he met; the justice of which reasoning the traveller 
possibly may not comprehend. 

6. Whoever borrows money is bound in conscience to re¬ 
pay it. This every man can see; but every man cannot see, 
or does not, however, reflect, that he is, in consequence, also 
bound to use the means necessary to enable himself to re¬ 
pay it. 

7. “ If he pay the money when he has it, or has it to spare, 
he does all that an honest man can do,” and all he imagines 
that is required of him, whilst the previous measures which 
are necessary to furnish him with the money, lie makes no 
part of his care, nor observes to be as much his duty as the 
other; 

8. Such as selling a family seat, or a family estate, con¬ 
tracting hh plan of expense, laying down his equipage, re¬ 
ducing the number of his servants, or any of those humiliat¬ 
ing sacrifices, which justice requires of a man in debt, the 
moment he perceives that he has no reasonable prospect of 
paying his debts without them. 

9. An expectation which depends upon the continuance of . 
his own life, will not satisfy an honest man if a better provi- 


161 


sion be in his power: for it is a breach of faith to subject a cre¬ 
ditor, when we can help it, to the risk of our life, be the event 
what it will; that not being the security to which credit was 
given. 

10. Service in this country [England] is, as it ought to be, 
voluntary, and bv contract; and the master’s authority ex¬ 
tend# no farther than the terms or equitable construction of 
the contract will justify. 

11. A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful commands 
of his master; to minister, for instance, to his unlawful plea¬ 
sures, or to assist him. by unlawful practices in his profes¬ 
sion; as m smuggling or adulterating the articles in which he 
deals. For the servant is bound by nothing but his own pro¬ 
mise; and the obligation of a promise, extends not to things 
unlawful. 

12. For the same reason, the master’s authority is no justi¬ 
fication of the servant in doing wrong; for the servant’s own 
promise, upon which that authority is founded, would be none. 

13. Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entirely 
in the profession or trade which they are intended to learn. 
Instruction is their hire, and to deprive them of the opportu¬ 
nities of instruction, by taking up their time with occupa¬ 
tions foreign to their business, is to defraud them of their 
wages. 

14. A master of a family is culpable, if he permit any vices 
among his domestics, which he might restrain by due disci¬ 
pline and a proper interference. This results from the gen¬ 
eral obligation to prevent misery when in our power; and the 
assurance which we have, that vice and misery, at the long 
run, go together. 

SECTION VIII. 

lies; revenge; duelling; slander; seduction. 

1. A lie is a breach of promise; for whoever seriously ad¬ 
dresses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak 
the truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. 

2. Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the 
direct ill consequences of lying to social happiness. Which 
consequences consist, either in some specific injury to parti¬ 
cular individuals, or in the destruction of that confidence, 
which is essential to the intercourse of human life: for which 
latter reason, a lie may be pernicious in its general tendency, 

* 14 



162 

and therefore criminal, though it produce no particular or 
visible mischief to any one. 

3. All pain occasioned to another in consequence of an of¬ 
fence, or injury received from him, farther than what is cal¬ 
culated to procure reparation, or promote the just ends of 
punishment, is so much revenge. It is highly probable, from 
the light of nature, that a passion, which seeks its gratification 
immediately and expressly in giving pain, is disagreeable to 
the benevolent will and counsels of the Creator. 

4. Duelling, as a punishment, is absurd, because it is an 
equal chance, whether the punishment fall upon the offender 
or the person offended. Nor is it much better as a repara¬ 
tion; it being difficult to explain in what the satisfaction con¬ 
sists, or how it tends to undo the injury, or to afford a com¬ 
pensation for the damage already sustained. 

5. For the army, where the point of honor is cultivated 
with exquisite attention and refinement, I would establish a 
court of honor, with a power of awarding those submissions 
and acknowledgements, which it is generally the purpose of 
a challenge to obtain; and it might grow into fashion, with 
persons of rank of all professions, to refer their quarrels to 
the same tribunal. 

6. Malicious slander, is the relating of either truth or false¬ 
hood for the purpose of creating misery. I acknowledge that 
the truth or falsehood of what is related varies the degree of 
guilt considerably: and that slander, in the ordinary accepta¬ 
tion of the term, signifies the circulation of mischievous false¬ 
hood; but truth may be made instrumental to the success of 
malicious designs as well as falsehood; and if the end be bail, 
the means cannot be innocent. Infoimation communicated 
for the real purpose of warning or cautioning, is not slander* 

7. The seducer practises the same stratagems to draw a 
woman’s person into his power, that a swindler does, to get 
possession of your goods or money. Seduction is seldom ac¬ 
complished without fraud; and the fraud is by so much the 
more criminal than other frauds, as the injury effected.by it 
is greater, continues longer, and less admits of reparation. 

8. This injury is threefold; to the woman, to her family, 
and to the public. The injury to the woman is made up of 
the pain she suffers from shame, of the loss she sustains in 
her reputation and prospects of marriage, and of the depra¬ 
vation nf her moral principle. 

?. The loss which a woman Sustains by the ruin of her re- 




168 


patation, almost exceeds computation. Every person’s hap¬ 
piness depends in part upon the respect and reception which 
they meet with in the world; and it is no inconsiderable mor¬ 
tification, even to the firmest tempers, to be rejected from the 
society of their equals, or received there with neglect and 
disdain. But this is not all, nor the worst. 

10. The injury to the family may be understood, bv the 
application of that infallible rule, “ of doing to others "what 
we would that others should do unto us.” Let a father or 
brother say, for what consideration they would suffer this in* 
i jury to a daughter or a sister; and whether any, or even a to¬ 
tal loss of fortune could create equal affliction and distress. 
And when they reflect upon this, let them distinguish, if they 
can, between a robbery, committed upon their property by 
fraud or forgery, and the ruin of their happiness by the 
treachery of a seducer. 

1 L Upon the whole, if we pursue the effects of seduction 
through the complicated misery which it occasions; and if it 
be right to estimate crimes by the mischief they knowingly 
produce, it will appear something nmre than mere invective 
to assert, that not one half of the crimes, for which men suf¬ 
fer death by the laws of England, are so flagitious as this. 

SECTION IX. 

OF THE DUTY OF PARENTS. EDUCATION. 

1. Education, in the most extensive sense of the word may 
Comprehend every preparation that is made in our youth for 
the sequel of our lives; and in this sense l use it. 

2. Some such preparation is necessary for children of all 
i conditions, because, without it, they must be miserable, and 

probably will be vicious, when they grow up, either from want 
of the means' of subsistence, or from want of rational and in¬ 
offensive occupation. In civilized life, every thing is effect¬ 
ed by art and skill. 

3. " Whence a person who is provided with neither (and 
neither can be acquired without exercise and instructions) 
will be useless; and he that is useless, will generally be at 
the same time mischievous to the community. So that to send 
an uneducated child into the world is injurious to the rest of 
mankind; it is little better than to turn out a mad dog, or 
wild beast into the streets. 

4. In tile inferior classes of community, this principle con¬ 
demns tire neglect of parents, who do not inure their child- 

- 


i 




164 


ren by times to labor and restraint, by providing them, with 
apprenticeships, services, or other regular employment, but 
who suffer them to waste their youth in idleness and vagrancy, 
or to bet ike themselves to'some lazy, trifling, and precarious 
calling; for the consequence of having thus tasted the sweets 
of natural liberty, at an age when their passion and relish 
for it are at the highest, is, that they become incapable for the 
remainder of their lives of continued industry, or of perse¬ 
vering attention to any thing; spend their time in a miserable 
struggle between the importunity of want, and the irksome¬ 
ness of regular application; and are prepared to embrace 
every expedient, which presents a hope of supplying their 
necessities without confining them to the plough, the loom, 
the shop, or the counting house. 

5. In the middle orders of society, those parents are most 
reprehensible, who neither qualify their children for a pro¬ 
fession, nor enable them to live without one: and those in the 
highest, who, from indolence, indulgence, or avarice, omit to 
procure their children those liberal attainments, which are 
necessary to make them useful in the stations to which they 
are destined. 

6. A man of fortune who permits his son to consume the 
season of education, in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting 
horse races, assemblies, or other unedifying, if not vicious di¬ 
versions, defrauds the community of a benefactor, and be¬ 
queaths them a nuisance. 

7. The health and virtue of a child’s future life are consid¬ 
erations so superior to all others, that whatever is likely to 
have the smallest influence upon these, deserves the parent’s 
fii>t attention. In respect of health, agriculture, and all ac¬ 
tive, rural, and out-of door employments, are to be preferred 
to manufactures and sedentary occupations. 

8. In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in which the ad¬ 
vantage is mutual, in which the. profit on one side is connect¬ 
ed with the benefit of the other (which is the case in trade, and 
all serviceable, art or labor,) is more favorable to the moral 
character, than callings in which one man’s gain is another’s 
loss, in which, what you acquire, is acquired without equiva¬ 
lent, and parted with in distress. For security, manual arts 
exceed merchandise, and such as supply the wants of man¬ 
kind are better than those which minister to their pleasure. 

9. On account of the few lucrative employments which are 
left to the female sex, and by consequence, the little oppprtu- 





165 * 


1 nity they have of adding fo their income, daughters ought t (t 
be the particular objects of a parent’s care and foresight:.and 
as an option of marriage, from which they can reasonably ex¬ 
pect happiness, is not presented to every woman who de¬ 
serves it, especially in times in which a licentious celibacy is 
in fashion with the men, a father should endeavor to enable 
his daughters to lead a single life with independency and de¬ 
corum, even though he subtract more for that purpose from 
the portions of his sons, than is agreeable to modern usage, of 
thau they expect. 

1 


| CHAPTER 3. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF BARON KNIGGE’s PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF 

SOCIAL LIFE, OR THE ART OF CONVERSING WITH MEN? TRANS¬ 
LATED FROM THE GERMAN, BY P. WILL, MINISTER AT SAVOY. 

1 he advantages which 1 have derived from the study and application 
of the excellent observations and rules which this work contains, and thfr- 
salutary effects which I have seen it produce in the life of those of my 
pupils to whom I have recommended it, and who followed the sage in¬ 
structions with which it abounds, made me wish most ardently, to see it 
dressed in an English garb, and circulated in a country which is so dear to 
me. It went through rive editions in the course of a few years, and, if I 
may presume to judge of its usefulness, from my own experience, stands 
foremost amongst ail the books which ever have been written to promote 
social happiness. Translator. 

SECTION I. 

GENERAL RULES AND OBSERVATIONS TO GUIDE US' IN OUR 
CONVERSATION WITH MEN. 

1. Strive to render yourself perfect; but avoid the appear- 
ance of perfection and infallibility. Be however not too much 

l the slave of the opinion which others form of you. Be self- 
consistent! What need have you to care for the censure of the 
! world if you act as you ought to do? Your whole wardrobe of 
external virtues is not worth a pin, if you conceal a weak and 
mean heart under that tinsel dress, and put it on only to make 
a show with it in companies. 

2. Above all things take care not to lose your confidence 
in yourself, your trust in God, in good men and fortune. Dis¬ 
close never in an ungenerous manner the defects of vour 

o g v 

neighbor, in order to sound your own praise at his expense; 
nor expose the failings of others to shine with additional lusv 
tre. 




166 


3. No rule is more generally useful, none ought to be ob¬ 
served more sacredly, and tends more to procure us respect 
and friends than that which teaches us to keep our word ri- j 
gidly, even in the most trifling instances, to be faithful to all 
our promises, and never to wander from the strait ro&d of 
truth and veracity. You are entitled in no instance, &nd by 
no motive whatever, to say the contrary of what you think, 
although it would frequently be highly wrong and imprudent 
to disclose every thought of your heart. 

4. No necessity, how imperious soever it be, can excuse an 
untruth; no breach of veracity has ever been committed with¬ 
out having produced, sooner or later, painful consequences; 
whereas the man who is known to be a slave to his word, and 
never to indulge himself with the commission of an untruth, 
gains confidence, a good name, and general regard. 

5. Be strict, punctual, regular, assiduous and* diligent in 
your calling. Interest yourself for others, if you wish them 
to interest themselves for you. A person that is destitute of 
fellow-feeling, of a sense for friendship, benevolence and love, 
and lives merely for himself, will also be left to shift for him¬ 
self when he wants the assistance of others. 

6. Above all things be always consistent. Form a certain 
plan of life and do not swerve from it the breadth of a hair, 
although that plan should be rather singular. People, will, 
perhaps, talk a short time of your singularity, but finally be 
silent, refrain from disturbing you any further, and, esteem 
you for your firmness. We in general, are always gainers 
by a regular perseverance and a wise firmness. 

7. Above all things strive to have always a good consci¬ 

ence Avoid most studiously to give your heart the least oc¬ 
casion to reproach you on account of the object of your ac¬ 
tions, and of the means which you employ to attain it. Pur¬ 
sue never crooked ways, and you may firmly relv upon good 
consequences, the assistance of God and of good men in time 
of need. | 

8. Although yoe should be thwarted for sometime by mis- [ 
fortune,yet the blissful consciousriess of the goodness of 
your heart, am: of the rectitude of your designs, will afford you 
uncommon strength and comfort. Attempt never 1o render 

a person ridiculous in company, how many defects soever he 
may have. 

9. ff you are desirous to gain lasting respect; if yon wish | 
to offend no one; to tire no person by your conversation; [ 






167 


advise you not to season your discourse constantly with as¬ 
persions, ridicule, and backbiting, nor to use yourself to the 
contemptible custom of jeering. 

10. This may please nowand then, particularly in the cir¬ 
cle of a certain class of people; but a man that constantly 
labors to amuse the company at the expense of other people, 
or of truth, will certainly be shunned and despised at last, 
and he deserves it; for a man of feeling and understanding 
will bear with the failings of others, as he must be sensible 
how much mischief sometimes a single expression of ridicule 
may produce, though no harm be meant. He also cannot but 
wish for more substantial and useful conversation, and loathe 
gibing nonsense. Yet we use ourselves but too easily to that 
miserable custom, in what are called the fashionable circles. 

11. Ido however not mean to condemn all ridicule in ge¬ 
neral, and at all times, nor to deny that many follies and ab¬ 
surdities can be counteracted best, in less familiar circles bv 
the lashes of line, not too plain, nor too ‘personal ridicule. 
Neither do £ desire you to applaud every thing you see and 
hear, nor to excuse all faults; I rather must confess, that I al¬ 
ways suspect people that aftect to cover all defects ol others 
with the cloak of charity. 

12. They are generally hypocrites, who wish to bribe 
others by the honorable terms in which they speak of them, to 
forget the injuries which they commit against those very per¬ 
sons: or they intend to prevail on us by such a conduct, to be 
equally indulgent to their own failings and defects. 

IS. Be careful not to carry stories from one house to ano¬ 
ther, nor to relate familiar table talks, family discourses, and 
observations which you have made on the domestic concerns 
and life of people with whom you frequently converse. Al¬ 
though you should not be a malicious tale-bearer, yet such ail 
officious garrulity would create mistrust and might occasion 
a great deal of animosity and discord. 

14. Whenever you speak of bodily, mental, moral, or other 
defects, or relate anecdotes that place certain principles in 
a ridiculous light, or reflect some blame upon certain ranks 
in life; then be cautious to ascertain first, that no one is pre¬ 
sent who could be oftended by it, or take that censure or ri¬ 
dicule as a reflection upon himself, or his relations and 
friends. Ridicule the person, shape and features of no one; 
for it is not m the power of any mortal to alter them. 







ms 

SECTION II. 


Oil TIIH CONVERSATION WITH OURSELVES. 

1. Take care of the health of your soul as well as that of 
your body; but spoil neither the one nor the other by too 
much tenderness. The man that endangers his constitu¬ 
tion by too much labor or excess, squanders away a treasure 
which frequently is alone sufficient to raise him above 
men and fate, and for the loss of which the wealth of all the 
world cannot compensate. 

2. But he that dreads every breeze of air and is fearful to 
exert and exercise his limbs, lives a nerveless life of constant 
anxiety, and attempts in vain to put the rusty springs in mo¬ 
tion when he has occasion to exert his natural powers. 

3. A man that constantly exposes his mind to the tempests 
of passion, or incessantly crowds the sails of his spirit, either 
runs aground or must return with his leaky vessel into port, 
when the best season for making new discoveries sets in. 
But he that suffers the faculties of his understanding and me¬ 
mory constantl y to sleep, or shudders at every little struggle 
or at any sort of painful exertion, enjoys not only very little 
of the sweets of life, but is also total ly lost as soon as energy, 
courage and resolution are required. 

4. fake care, therefore, not to torment yourself by imagi¬ 
nary sufferings of the body or the soul; do not give way to 
every adverse incident or corporeal affliction! fake courage 
and be resolute! All the storms of adversity are transient; 
all difficulties can be overcome by firmness of mind, and the « 
remembrance of every loss can be exploded from the memory 
if we bend our attention upon some other object. 

5. Have a proper regard for yourself, if you wish to be es¬ 
teemed by others. Act well and properly, rather to preserve 
your regard for yourself than to please others. Preserve a 
proper sense of your internal dignity. Never lose your reli¬ 
ance upon yourself, and upon the consciousness of your value 
in the eyes of your Creator; and although you are sensible t 
not to be as wise and capable as others, yet do not despair to j> 
come up with them; let notyour zeai slacken, nor be wantino¬ 
in probity of heart! 

6. Have confidence in yourself and trust to Providence 1 t( 
There exists a greatness which is independent of men, fate,L| 
and the applause of the world; it consists in the internal con- i 
sciousness of our merit and rectitude, and our sense of it! 
grows stronger, the less it is taken notice of. 








169 


7. Be an agreeable companion to yourself: that is, nevef 
be entirely unoccupied, nor confide entirely in the store or 
knowledge which you have treasured up in your mind; but 
collect new ideas from books and men. 

8. Our own society does, however, never grow more tedi¬ 
ous and distressing to ourselves than when we have painful 
accounts to settle with our heart and conscience. If you 
wish to convince yourself of the truth of this assertion you 
need but to observe the difference ofyour disposition. 

9. How much dissatisfied with ourselves, now absent, and 
how burdensome to ourselves, are we after a train of hours 
which we have trifled away or spent in doing wrong, and how 
serene, how happy to reflect upon our conduct, and to give 
audience to our ideas at the close of a well spent day! 


SECTION III. 

ON THE CONVERSATION WITH PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT TEMPERS 
AND DISPOSITIONS. 

1. Amongst all adventurers, gamblers by profession are the 
most contemptible and prejudicial class. On speaking of 
them, 1 beg leave to say a few words on gaining in general. 

2. No passion can lead to such extremities, nor involve a 
tnan in such a complicated train of crimes and vices, and ruin 
whole families, so completely, as the baneful rage for gamb¬ 
ling. It produces and nourishes all imaginable disgraceful 
sensations; it is the most fertile nursery of covetousness, en¬ 
vy, rage, malice, dissimulation, falsehood, and foolish reliance 
on blind fortune; it frequently leads to fraud, quarrels, mur¬ 
der, forgery, meanness and despair; and robs us, in the most 
unpardonable manner, of the greatest and most irrecoverable 
treasu re— Time . 

3. Drunkards, voluptuaries, and all votaries of vice in ge¬ 
neral, you ought to shun, and if possible, to avoid their socie¬ 
ty; yet if you should not always be able to do it, you cannot 
be too careful to watch over your innocence lest it should be 
infected by their example. 

4. This, however, is not sufficient; it is also your duty not 
to indulge them in their excesses, how pleasing, soever the 
shape may be in which they appear, but to show, as far as 
prudence permits, that you have an unconquerable aversion 

15 








170 


against them, and to be particularly careful never to join rn 
smutty discourses. 

5. We see frequently that elegant rakes are uncommonly 
well received in the fashionable circles as they are .called; and 
but too often experience in many societies,particularly in such 
as consist entirely of males, that the conversation turns upon 
obscene ambiguities, which inflame the imagination of young 
people, and spread farther the corruption of morals 

6. An honest man ought not tocontribute the least thing in the 
world to this general corruption of morals; he rather is bound 
to display his aversion to it in the strongest manner, without 
showing any respect of persons; and if he cannot correct peo¬ 
ple who walk in the path of vice by amicable admonitions, 
and by directing their activity to nobler objects, at least to \ 
' convince them that he values decency and virtue, and that in¬ 
nocence must be respected in his presence. 

7. People who believe without any sufficientground in cer¬ 
tain doctrines and obligations , or in supernatural causes , 
agencies and apparitions , who for instance believe that God 
is an irrascible and revengeful being, that those who are he¬ 
retics, in their opinion, ought to be deprived of all civil pri¬ 
vileges, that the sign of the cross has a peculiar and superna¬ 
tural effect, that ghosts and superior beings can appear to 
men, &c. and who regard these objects of their faith as highly 
sacred and inviolable are called superstitious. 

8. It is a certain criterion of superstition to believe too 
much, i. e. more than sound reason warrants. People who 
are given to superstition do not therefore listen to the 
voice of reason, but are deaf to sober arguments and believe 
the most contradictory tenets. They never give up an opinion 
which they have once adopted, how absurd and incomprehen¬ 
sible soever it may be,arid the firmness ol their faith is found¬ 
ed merely on habit. 

9. They have heard for instance a certain tenet asserted 
in their youth, it was recommended to them as a religious 
truth, anti they have believed in it for many years; or some¬ 
thing was inculcated into their mind as an invariable duty 
and obligation; or they were taught to believe that certain 
invisible powers produce certain effects; and now they con¬ 
tinue to adhere to that opinion, because they have accustom¬ 
ed themselves so much to believe it, that the contrary of it 
appears to them a daring violation of truth, which they are 
bound to abhor or to hate; and as reason opposes to their 


171 


bftljefincontrovertible doubts, their commodiousness leads 
them to think that the voice of reason ought not to be listen¬ 
ed to in matters of faith . 

10. Superstition undoubtedly is a sourceof numerous evils, 
and productive of great misery; and it is extremely painful 
and distressing for every individual to be connected with its 
votaries: for the superstitious abhors every one that is of a 
different opinion. 

11. And what motive can a person have to suspect the 
truth of a doctrine of which he is as firmly convinced, as he is 
of the reality of his existence? Is it not natural that a person 
who is to examine a doctrine which he believes, should first 
think it possible that it may be erroneous? But if he think 
it impossible he cannot be reasonably expected to examine 
it. 

12. From this it appears, that the superstition of many 
people is very excusable, and that those who are infected 
w ith it have a just claim to our forbearance. It would there¬ 
fore be as unjust and inhuman to hate a man for his supersti¬ 
tion, as it would be to hate another because he is infected 
with some constitutional disease. The superstitious is there¬ 
fore justly entitled to compassion, and we ought to tolerate 
him with fraternal love. 


SECTION IV. 

ON THE CONVERSATION WITH PEOPLE OF A DIFFERENT AGE. 

1. Many sensations, which nature has impressed on the 
soul, are reasoned away in our enlightened age, which is so 
carefully cleared of all the rubbish of antiquated prejudices. 
One of these prejudices is the sense of regard for hoary age. 
Our youth ripen sooner, grow sooner wise and learned than 
those of former times did. 

2. They repair by diligent reading, particularly of maga¬ 
zines, pamphlets and novels, their want of experience and 
study. This renders them so intelligent as to be able to de¬ 
cide upon subjects which our forefathers thought could only 
be clearly comprehended alter a close and studious applica¬ 
tion of many years. 

3. Thence arises that noble self sufficiency and confidence 
w hich inferior geniuses mistake for impudence and arrogance, 
that consciousness of internal worth with which the beardless* 








m 


boys of our age look down upon old men, and decry every 
thing that happens to come in their way. 

4. The utmost thata man of riper years may expect now- 
a days, from his children and grand-children is, kind indul¬ 
gence, chastening censure, being tutored by them and pitied, 
because he is so unfortunate as not to have been born in our 
happy age, in which wisdom rains from heaven; unsown and 
uncultivated, like manna in the desert. 

5. There are many things in this world which can be learnt 
only by experience; there are sciences which absolutely re¬ 
quire close and long study, reiterated reflection and medita¬ 
tion, coolness of temper and mature judgment; and therefore 
I think the most brilliant and acute genius, in most cases, 
ought to pay some attention and deference to an old man, 
whose inferiority of facuclties, is compensated by age and ex¬ 
perience. 

6. It must be acknowledged in general, that the store of 
experience which a man gathers in a long course of years, en¬ 
ables him to fix his ideas, to awaken from ideal dreams, ta 
avoid being led astray by a lively imagination, the warmth 
of blood and the irritability of nerves, and to behold the ob¬ 
jects with which he is surrounded in their proper point of 
view. 

7. It is, besides, so noble and amiable, to render the latter 
days of the pilgrimage of life, in which cares and sorrows ge¬ 
nerally increase, and enjoyment takes its flight, as easy as 
possible to those that soon are to bid an eternal farewell to 
the treasures and gratifications of this world, that I feel my¬ 
self impelled to exclaim, with additional energy, to youth of 
every description— 

8. “ Rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of 
the old. Court the society of old and experienced people! 
Do not despise the counsel of cool reason, nor the advice of 
experience. Treat the hoary as you wish to be treated, when 
your hair shall be bleached by old age. Respect them, and 
do not desert them, when wild and thoughtless youths shun 
their company. 5 

9. As for the rest, it cannot be denied that there are many 
M fools, as there are also wise young men who have earned 
already when others scarcely have begun to sow. 

10. The conversation with children is highly interesting 
to a sensible man. He beholds in them the book of nature in 
an uncorrupted edition. Children appear as they really are, 





173 


and as'they are not misled by systems, passions or learning, 
judge of many things better than grown persons; they re¬ 
ceive many impressions much sooner, and are not guided by 
so many prejudices as the latter. 

11. In short, if you wish to study men you must not neg- 
lect to mix with the society of children. However, the con* 
versation with them requires considerations which are not 
necessary in the society of people of maturer years. 

12. It is a sacred duty to give them no offence whatever, to 
abstain in their company from all wanton discourses and ac¬ 
tions, and to display in their presence benevolence, faith, sin¬ 
cerity, decency and. every other virtue; in short, to contribute 
as much as possible to their improvement; for their ductile 
and uncorrupted mind is as ready to receive good impres¬ 
sions, as it is open to the seeds of vice, and I may safely 
maintain that the degeneracy of mankind is greatly owing to 
the imprudence and inconsideration with which people of a 
maturer age deport themselves in the presence of children. 


SECTION V. 

ON THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN PARENTS AND CHILDREN 

1. It is not uncommon in our days to see children neg¬ 
lect their parents, or even treat them ill. The principal ties 
of human society grow laxer every day; young men think 
that their fathers are not wise, entertaining and enlightened 
enough, and girls yawn in the company of their hoary mo¬ 
ther, not reflecting how many tedious hours their parent 
spent at their cradle in attending and nursing them when 
they were stretched on a sick bed, or in performing the 
most disagreeable and offensive labors, to render them com¬ 
fortable and to ease their pains, and that she denied herself 
many pleasures, to take care of the little helpless, unclean 
being, who without her tender attendance, perhaps, would 
have perished. 

2. Children forget but too often how many cheerful hours 
they have embittered to their parents by their stunning cla¬ 
mor; how many sleepless nights they have caused to their 
careful father, who exerted himself to the utmost of his abi¬ 
lities to provide for his family, and was obliged to deny 
himself many comforts for their benefit. Well disposed 

* 15 



174 


minds, however, will never be so totally devoid of all sense 
of gratitude as to be in want of my advice, and for mean 
and unfeeling souls I do not write. 

3. It is only necessary to observe, that if children really 
should have reason to be ashamed of the weakness or the 
vices of their parents, they will do much better to conceal 
their defects, as much as possible, than to neglect paying 
them that external regard which they owe them in many re¬ 
spects. The blessings of Heaven, and the approbation of 
all good men, are the certain rewards of the attention which 
sons and daughters pay to the coinfort and happiness, of 
their parents. 

4. It is a great misfortune to a child to be tempted by the 
discord in which his parents live, or by other causes, to take 
the part of one against the other. Prudent parents, however, 
will carefully avoid involving their children in such alter¬ 
cations; and on such occasions good children will behave 
with that circumspection and tenderness which probity and 


prudence require. 



SECTION VI. 


ON CONVERSATION BETWEEN MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

1. It is lamentable enough* that the greater part of man¬ 
kind is forced by weakness, poverty; tyranny and other 
causes, to be subservient to the smaller number, ,and that 
the honest man frequently must obey the nod of the villain. 
What, .therefore, can be more just than that those whom Pro¬ 
vidence has entrusted with the power to sweeten the life of , 
their fellow men, and to render its burdens easier, should, 
make the best use of that fortunate situation? 

2. It is, however, also true, that the majority seem to have 
been born to be dependent on others for guardianship and 
employment, and noble and truly magnanimous sentiments 
to be the inheritance of a small number only. Bur let us 
consider that the ground of this truth is founded rather oil 
the defective education which the rising generation general¬ 
ly receive than on their natural disposition. 

3. Luxury, and its concomitant train, the despoilers of 
every age in which they are fotstered, create an enormous 
number of wants, which render the majority of mankind de¬ 
pendent on a few. The insatiable thirst for gain and gratl- 



i75 


fication produces mean passions, and forces us to beg, as it 
were, for those things winch we imagine to be necessary for 
our existence; whereas temperance and moderation are the 
source of all virtues, and the precursors of true happiness. 

4. Although most people should be callous against more 
refined sentiments, yet are they not all ungrateful towards 
those that treat them with generosity, nor are they entirely 
blind to all intrinsic worth. 

5. A benevolent, serious, firm* and consistent conduct, 
which must not he confounded with stiff and overbearing so¬ 
lemnity; good and prompt payment, which is proportionate 
to the importance of their services; rigorous punctuality in 
enforcing the regularity to which they have bound them¬ 
selves; kindness and affection, when they make a modest and 
reasonable request; moderation in the exercise of our autho¬ 
rity; 

6. A just regard to their abilities in the distribution of la¬ 
bor; a proper allowance of time for innocent recreations, and 
the improvement of their abilities; attention to their wants;, 
rigorous injunction of cleanliness in their dress anil proprie¬ 
ty in their conduct; readiness to sacrifice our own interest* 
when we can contribute to the improvement of their situ¬ 
ation; paternal care for their .health and morals; these are 
the only means of obtaining good and faithful servants, and 
of insuring their affection. 

7. A father of a family has a just right to demand of his 
servants to perform all their duties with care and fidelity; 
but he ought never to suffer himself to be impelled by the 
fervor of passion to vent his indignation at his domestics by 
swearing at them, calling them names, or even striking them. 
A generous mind will never demean itself so low as to ill- 
treat those that have not the power to defend themselves. 

8. Ail those that serve, are bound to execute the duties 
they have engaged 1o perform with the greatest and-most 
strict fidelity; 1 would consequently advise their doing too 
much rather than too little, promoting the interest of their 
masters as diligently as their own, acting always with such 
candor, and being so regular and exact in the execution of 
their task, as to be enabled, at all times, to give a cheerful 
and satisfactory account of their conduct ro tueir'employ¬ 
ers; never to make an improper use of the confidence of theiy 
master; not to disclose the errors anil defects ot those whose 
bread they eat, nor to suffer themselves to be tempted by 






176 


their passions to violate the respect which they owe thos«! 
to whom Providence has subjected them. 


SECTION VII. 

OPT THE RELATIONS BETWEEN BENEFACTORS AND THE OBJECTS 

OF THEIR KINDNESS, AS WELL AS BETWEEN INSTRUCTORS 

AND PUPILS, CREDITORS AND DEBTORS. 

1. Gratitude is a sacred duty; therefore honor the man 
who has been kind to you. Thank him, not only in terms 
which express the warmth of your gratitude, but avail your¬ 
self also of every opportunity to serve and to be useful to 
him in return. 

2. The manner in which we dispense benefactions is fre¬ 
quently worth more than the action itself. It can enhance 
the value of every gift, as, on the other hand, it can also de¬ 
prive it of all merit. 

3. Do not repel the distressed from your door! When 
you are requested by any person to give advice or assistance, 
you ought to listen kindly, attentively, and with fellow-feel- 
ltig to his tale. Let him speak without being interrupted; 
and if you cannot comply with his request, inform him frank¬ 
ly and without bitterness, of the cause which prevents you 
from realizing his expectation. Take great care to avoid all 
ambiguous subterfuges and deceitful promises! 

4. No benefaction is superior to that of instructing and 
cultivating the mind of others. Every person who has con¬ 
tributed any thing towards making us wiser, better and hap¬ 
pier, has the strongest claim to our everlasting and warmest 
gratitude. Although he should not have exerted himself to 
the best of his abilities, yet we ought not to be ungrateful for 
the little improvement which we owe to him. 

5. People who have devoted themselves zealously to the 
important occupation of educating the rising generation, ge¬ 
nerally deserve being treated with peculiar regard. To form 
and cultivate the mind of man is indeed a most difficult and 
arduous task, the accomplishment of which cannot be reward¬ 
ed with money. 

6. The schoolmaster of even the most insignificant village, 
who executes the duties of his calling with faithful diligence, 
is unquestionably one of the most useful and important per¬ 
sons in the state; and as his income generally is scanty 
enough, it is but just we should endeavor to sweeten the la- 




177 


fcoriouslife of such an useful member of society, by treating* 
him at least with due respect. 

7. Humanity and prudence require we should be civil, just 
and kind to our debtors. It is a very reprehensible princi¬ 
ple to think that a person who owes us money, has thereby 
become our slave, that he must take up with ail sorts of hu¬ 
miliation, that he is not at liberty to decline complying with 
any demand which we may think proper to make, and, in ge¬ 
neral, that the pecuniary assistance we afford to our fellowN 
creatures can authorise us, at any time, to look contemptu¬ 
ously down upon them, and to treat them as our inferiors. 

8. Pay your creditors punctually, and be faithful to your 
promises; confound not tne honest man who lends on moder¬ 
ate interest to gain a livelihood by it, with the extorting usur¬ 
er, and you will always find people who are ready to assi§£ 
you in pecuniary matters. 

SECTION VIII. 

ON OUR CONDUCT TOWARDS OTHERS IN VARIOUS AND PECULIA^ 
SITUATIONS AND RELATIONS. 

1. It is not always in our power to render ourselves belov*^ 
ed, but it depends at all times on ourselves not to be despised. 
General applause and praise are not necessary to render us> 
happy. Even the knave cannot help respecting a really wise 
and virtuous man, and two or three sincere friends are suffi¬ 
cient to cheer our path through life. 

2. People who groan under the heavy pressure of adverse 
fate, who are persecuted by the malice of men, reduced to. 
poverty, neglected, or have strayed from the path of truth and 
virtue, have a just claim to our compassion, and ought to be 
treated with kind forbearance and humanity. 

S. Assist the poor , if Providence have granted you the 
power to afford him relief in his distress. Send not the penu¬ 
rious from your door while you can give him a small gift 
without being unjust to your family. Dispense your charity 
with a cheerful heart and with a good grace. Do not inquire 
.whether the man whom you can relieve, has been the cause of 
his own misfortunes? Who would be found entirely innocent 
of the sufferings under which he groans, were we always to 
inquire minutely after their causes? 

4, Shun not the scenes of human misery, nor flee from the 


1/8 

abode of distress and poverty; for if we desire to be capable 
of having compassion for the sufferings of an unfortunate 
brother, we must be acquainted with the various scenes of 
misery which this world exhibits. 

5. Where humble poverty groans and dares not to step 
forth from its gloomy retirement to implore assistance; where 
adverse fate persecutes the diligent man who has seen better 
days; where a virtuous and numerous family strive in vain to 
procure, by the most indefatigable diligence, and the daily 
labor of their hands, as much as is sufficient to protect them 
against hunger, nakedness, and disease; where, upon the hard 
couch, bashful tears run down the pallid cheek! thither, my 
charitable and humane readers, bend your steps. There you 
have the noblest opportunity of laying out your money, the 
superfluity which Providence has intrusted to you, and to gain 
that interest which no bank in the world can give you. 

6. Of all the unfortunate sufferers whom this vain world 
contains, none are more to be pitied than such as have involv¬ 
ed themselves in a long train of guilty actions by a single 
wrong step, suppressed all sense for virtue, acquired a bane¬ 
ful habitude in doing wrong, lost all confidence in God and 
men, and all courage to return again to the path of virtue, or 
are, at least, on the point of sinking so low. 

7. They have the strongest claim upon our compassion, be¬ 
cause they are deprived of the only consolation that can sup¬ 
port us in the greatest misfortunes, namely, of the conscious¬ 
ness of not having wantonly brought upon themselves the 
evils under which they groan. 

8. Nothing, moreover, is so apt to render a man mean as 
public contempt, and the marks of growing mistrust for his 
amendment. Let us finally believe, for the honor of man¬ 
kind, that no person can sink so low, or be corrupted so com¬ 
pletely, iis to render it impossible for us to save him by a ju¬ 
dicious and zealous application of proper means. 

9. An honest, industrious, and skilful tradesman and me¬ 
chanic , is one of the most useful persons in the state, and the 
little deference which we pay to that class of people is very 
disgraceful to our moral character and understanding. What 
preference has an idle courtier, or an overgrown merchant, 
to an honest citizen who gains his bread in a lawful manner 
by the work of his hands? 

10. This class of people work to satisfy our principal and 
most natural wants; if it were not for their assistance, we 


179 


should be obliged to prepare all the necessaries of life with 
our own hand; therefore, if a tradesman or a mechanic (as 
frequently is the case) raise himself above the rest by his in¬ 
genuity, and shows that he spares no labor to improve his art, 
lie has an additional claim to our regard. 

11. I must also observe, that we frequently meet amongst 
this class of people with men of the brightest understanding, 
w ho are less given to prejudices than many of a superior rank, 
who have perverted their sound reason by study and slavish 
devotion to systems. Therefore honor a worthy and diligent 
tradesman and mechanic, and treat him with civility. 


SECTION IX. 

'PRINCIPAL CAUSES OF THE WANT OF DOMESTIC PLEASURES. 

j 1. Amongst all the numerous sources of human happiness, 
domestic life undoubtedly is the richest and most productive; 

' but to w hich unhappily too many of the higher and middling 
classes rarely resort. This source of pleasure and happiness 
is accessible at all times to every man; its use is.not confined 
to time, and the enjoyment of it requires not the least labo¬ 
rious preparations. 

2. The more pleasures the wise draw from this source, the 
richer and more copious it grows; the more frequently he re¬ 
sorts to it, the more he will relish the blessings wdiich it affords. 
If we really wish to enjoy domestic pleasure and happiness, 
mutual love and regard must be the foundation; and while we 
negie».t to preserve and strengthen these ties, domestic life 
must lose its sweetest charms. 

3. Want of mutual concern is one of the most prominent 
features of the absence of domestic pleasure and happiness. 
It is impossible we should be capable of enjoyiug domestic 
happiness, while we do not take the liveliest interest in every 
concern of our consort. Want of taste for innocent and sim¬ 
ple pleasures contributes likewise very much to destroy do¬ 
mestic and social happiness, and to render our home irksome 

, to us. 

4. Married people who must see each other every day, and 
therefore have opportunities enough to get acquainted with 
each other’s faults and humors, and suffer many inconveni¬ 
ences even from the most trifling of them, cannot be too cir¬ 
cumspect in their conduct; and it is highly important for them 
to find out. means of preventing their society from being 







180 


troublesome and tediouslo one another, and to guard against 
mutual indifference, coldness and aversion. 

5. Dissimulation is one of the worst expedients that can be 
adopted for that purpose; but nothing is more efficacious than 
a certain regard for our own person, and an unremitted care 
to avoid every thing that can produce bad impressions. I 
would therefore advise married people carefully to cultivate 
mutual civility, which is the true spirit and characteristic of 
conjugal familiarity, and at all times distinguishes a man of 
good breeding. Discord between married people has always 
a bad influence on the education of their children. Economy 
is one of the first requisites of conjugal happiness. 

6. Want of materials for conversations and enjoyment is a 
no less common cause of the want of domestic happiness and 
pleasure. Conversation, particularly with a smaller circle of 
friends, requires we should hern possession of .various mate¬ 
rials to keep it alive, that its sources may not he dried up 
and make room for tediousness and satiety; and that oui en¬ 
joyment should be multiplied and refined by noble feedings, i 
if we wish to preserve it from degenerating into disgust. u 

7. Those that bring an empty head and a cold heart into so- I \ 

cial life, and are capable only of supporting a conversation on j 
the most hackneyed subjects, or being affected by violent sen- \ 
sual impressions, cannot indeed expect to derive much plea¬ 
sure and happiness from it. Pleasures which are merely sen- \ 
^ual are soon exhausted, as well as the little incidents of the , 
"day. , 

8. But when those in near connexion possess an accom- \ 
pUshed understanding, and a well disposed heart; when they , 
have a decided taste tor every thing which is noble and good; \ 
when they have the capacity, and a sincere wish to instruct i 
and to be instructed; when the joint reading of a good and 
instructive book serves them instead of splendid assemblies; | 
when they mutually strive after wisdom, virtue and higher ] 
perfection; when they unite for the common enjoyment ot the 
pleasures of religion and rational devotion, and take the most 
lively interest in every thing that concerns mankind and their 
mutual peace; then it is impossible the sources of domestic 
pleasures and happiness, should ever be exhausted! 

9. How necessary it therefore is for every one panting af¬ 
ter domestic bliss, that he should never cease to cultivate 
his mind and heart; and how natural it is that our modern 
«&fetli£d of educating our children should render them totally 




181 


unfit for enjoying the purest pleasures which this sublunary 
world can afford! 

10. Is it not natural that our social circles afford us so ht- 
1 tie real pleasure, while the majority of our young men possess 
1 no other knowledge but what they have acquired in taverns, 
play houses, bawdy houses, &c. or gathered from novels and 
; newspapers? 


SECTION X. 

ON CANDOR AND TOLERANCE IN CONVERSATION. 

! 1. Want of candor and tolerance in conversation is one of 

the most common and baneful enemies of social and domes¬ 
tic pleasure. 

2. All our notions are produced and shaped by sensual 
1 perceptions, by instruction, education, reading, conversation, 

' meditation, and the conclusions drawn therefrom. As for 
' the notions produced by sensual perceptions, it is obvious to 

the most common understanding, that it some object affects 
the sensual organs, as the eye, for instance, we cannot avoid 
judging of it conformably to the perceptions it produces 
through that medium upon the mind. 

3. We must see what we do see. We must think an object 
to be green, if it appear in that color to our eyes, although to 
every other person it should seem to be blue. Neither ought 
we to condemn any one for the notions he owes to his educa¬ 
tion, instruction, reading, and conversation with others. It is 
not his fault that he was placed by Providence in the situa¬ 
tion in which he is, and that he received no other ideas but 
such as naturally resulted from it. 

4. But what confusion, what disorder could be occasioned 
by the free exercise of the liberty of speech? It neither can 
be injurious to sound religion, nor to a well regulated govern¬ 
ment, nor to the essential principles of morality. Sound re¬ 
ligion needs not to fear the light. The more freely its prin¬ 
ciples are discussed, the more amiable will it appear to an im¬ 
partial examiner. 

5. Doubts may indeed be raised against some of its tenets, 
but these verv doubts will serve as a new spur to more minute 
inquiry which ultimately will do it more good than harm. 
Truth always eventually conquers, and error only cannot 
stand the test of free examination. 

16 








182 


6, All acrimony, passionate heat, rudeness of language, ri¬ 
dicule and hatred" which we display towards those that differ 
with us in opinion about religious, moral, philosophical, or po¬ 
litical subjects, is therefore unbecoming a man of honor, a 
glaring infringement of the general rights of men, and dis¬ 
graceful to a rational being. 

7. If the ideas they advance be really and essentially er¬ 
roneous, violent and passionate declamations against them 
will never contribute any thing towards convincing them of 
their error, but will rather lead them to think that we are sen¬ 
sible of their superiority and our own weakness, and wish to 
silence , because we are incapable of refuting them. 

H. Such conduct, of course, will give them just reason to 
complain, that we use unfair weapons to combat them, render 
us suspected of arrogance and tyrannical sentiments, and 
provoke hatred and contempt. Tolerate the erring without 
coufirniing them in their errors. 








PART SIXTH. 


SELECTIONS FROM FRANKLIN’S WORKS, COMPRISING A 
SKETCH OF IIIS LIFE, HIS RULES OF VIRTUE, AND OF CI¬ 
CERO’S DISCOURSE ON OLD ACE. 


Sage Franklin next arose with cheerful mien, 

And smiled unruffl’d o’er the solemn scene;* 

His locks of age a various wreath embraced, 

'Palm of all arts that e’er a mortal grac’d; 

Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne. 

And the tame thunder from the tempest torn. 

Barlow's Columbiad • 

CHAPTER 1. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE FIRST PART OF THE LIFE OF DR. 

FRANKLIN, ADDRESSED TO HIS SON WILLIAM FRANKLIN, ESS* 

DATED 1771. 

SECTION I. 

HIS EARLY DILIGENCE IN READING AND IMPROVING HIS 

MIND, &C. 

1. Dear Son —I have ever had a pleasure in obtaining any 
little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may re mem tier the 

j inquiries I made among the remains of my relations, when 
you were with me in England. Imagining it may be equally 
agreeable to you to learn the circumstances of my life, and 
expecting a few weeks uninterrupted leisure, I sit down to 
write them. Besides, there are some other inducements to 
excite me to this undertaking. 

2. From the bosom of poverty and obscurity, in which I 
drew my first breath anti spent my earliest years, 1 have 
raised myself to a state of opulence, and to some degree of 
celebrity in the world. A constant good fortune lias attend¬ 
ed me through every period of life to my present advanced 
age; and my descendants may be desirous of learning what 
were the means of which I made use, and w hich, thanks to 
the assisting hand of Providence, have proved so eminently 
successful. They may also, should they ever be placed in a 
sitpilar situation, derive some advantage from my narrative* 

* Alluding to the American Revolution. 










184 


3. This good fortune, when I reflect on it, which is fre¬ 
quently the case, has induced me sometimes to say, that if 
it were left to my choice 1 should have no objection to go 
oyer the same career of life again, requesting only the pri¬ 
vilege authors have of correcting in a second edition the er¬ 
rors of the first. 

4. 1 was born in Boston, in New England. My brothers 
were all put apprentices to different trade. With respect 
to myself, [ was sent, at the age of eight years, to a grammar 
school. My father destined me for the church, and already i 
regarded me as the chaplain of the family. 

5. The promptitude with which, from my infancy, I had 
learned to read, for I do not remember to have been ever 
without this acquirement, and the encouragements of his 
friends, who assured him that I should one day certainly be¬ 
come a man of letters, confirmed him in this design. My 
uncle Benjamin approved also of the scheme, and promised 
to give me all his volumes of sermons, written in the short 
hand of his invention, if I would take the pains to learn it. 

fi. i remained, however, scarcely a year at the grammar 
school, although, in this short interval, I had risen from the 
middle to the head of my class, from thence to the class im¬ 
mediately above, and was to pass, at the end of the year, to 
the one next in order. 

7. But my father, burdened with a numerous family, found 
that he was incapable, without subjecting himself to difficul¬ 
ties, of providing for the expense of a collegiate education; 
and considering, besides, as I heard him say to his friends, 
that persons so educated were often poorly provided for, he 
renounced his first intentions, took me from the grammar 
sclioul, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, 
kept by a Mr. George Brownwel, who was a skilful master, 
and succeeded very well in his profession by employing gen¬ 
tle means only, and such as were calculated to encourage 
his scholars. Under him I soon acquired an excellent hand; 
but I failed in arithmetic, and made therein no sort of progress. 

8. At ten years of age I was called home to assist my fa¬ 
ther in his occupation, which was that of soapboiler and tal- 
lowchandler; a business to which he had served no appren¬ 
ticeship, but which he embraced on his arrival in New Eng¬ 
land, because he found his own, that of a dyer, in too little 
request to enable him to maintain his family. I was accord¬ 
ingly employed in cutting the wicks, filling the moulds, tak* 
iftg care of the shop, carrying messages, &c. 


m 


9. From my earliest years I had been passionately fond 
of reading, and I laid out in books all the little money I could 
procure. I was particularly pleased with accounts of voyages. 
My first acquisition was Bunyan’s collection in small sepa¬ 
rate volumes. These I afterwards sold in order to buy an 
historical collection by R. Burton, which consisted of small, 
cheap volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. My 
father’s little library was principally made up of books of 
practical and polemical theology. I read the greatest part 
of them. 

10. I have since often regretted, that at a time when I had 
so great a thirst for knowledge, more eligible books had not 
fallen into my hands, as it was then a point decided that I 
should not be educated for the church. There was also 
among my father’s books Plutarch’s Lives, in which I read 
continually, and I still regard as advantageously employed 
the time 1 devoted to them. I found besides a work of De 
Foe’s, entitled “An Essay on Projects,” from which, perhaps, 
I derived impressions that have since influenced some of the 

; principal events of my life. My inclination for books at last 
determined my father to make me a printer, though he had 
already a son in that profession. [He was accordingly bound 
as an apprentice to his brother James.] 

11. In a very short time I made great proficiency in this 
business, and became very serviceable to my brother. I had 
now an opportunity of procuring better books. The acquain¬ 
tance I necessarily formed with booksellers’apprentices, en¬ 
abled me to borrow a volume now and then, which I never 
failed to return punctually, and without injury. 

12. How often has it happened to me to pass the greater 
part of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book 
had been lent me in the evening and was to be returned the 
next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted. 

13. At length, Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious trades¬ 
man, who had a handsome collection of books, and who fre¬ 
quented our printing-house, took notice of me. He invited 
me to see his library, and had the goodness to lend me any 
books I was desirous of reading. 

14. About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spec¬ 
tator. 1 had never before seen any of them. 1 bought it, read 
it over and over, and was much delighted w ith it. 1 thought 
the writing excellent, and wished if possible to imitate it. 
With that view, 1 took some of the papers, and making short 

* 16 




186 


hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a few 
days, and then without looking at the book, tried to complete 
the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at 
length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any 
suitable words that should occur to me. 

15. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, dis¬ 
covered some of my faults, and corrected them. The time 
which I devoted to these exercises, and to reading, was the 
evening after my day’s labor was finished, the morning before 
it began, and Sundays when I could escape attending divine 
service. While I lived with my father, he had insisted on 
my punctual attendance on public worship, and I still indeed 
considered it as a duty, but a duty which I thought 1 had no 
time to practise. 

16. When about sixteen years of age, a work of Tryon fell 
into my hands, in which lie recommends vegetable diet. I de¬ 
termined to observe it. My brother, being a bachelor, did 
not keep house, but boarded with his apprentices in a neigh¬ 
boring family. 

17. My refusing to eat animal food was found inconveni¬ 
ent, and I was often scolded for my singularity. I attended 
to the mode in which Tryon prepared some of his dishes, par¬ 
ticularly how to boil potatoes and rice, and make hasty pud¬ 
dings. I then said to my brother, that if he would allow me 
per week half what he paid for my board, I would undertake 
to maintain myself. The offer was instantly embraced, and I 
soon found that of what he gave me I was able to save half. 

18. This was a new fund for the purchase of books; and 
other advantages resulted to me from the plan. When my 
brother and his workmen left the printing house to go to din¬ 
ner, I remained behind; and despatching my frugal meal, 
which frequently consisted of a biscuit only, or a slice of 
bread and a bunch of raisins, or a bun from the pastry cook’s, 
with a glass of Water, 1 had the rest of the time till their re¬ 
turn, for study; and my progress therein was proportioned to 
that clearness of ideas, and quickness of conception, which 
are the fruit of temperance in eating and drinking. 

19. It was about this period that, having one day been put 
to the blush for my ignorance in the art of calculation, which 
J had twice failed to learn while at school, L took Cocker’s 
Treatise of Arithmetic, and went through it by myself with 
the utmost ease. 

20. While laboring to form and improve my style, I met 






187 


i with an English grammar, which I believe was Greenwoods, 
having at the end of it two little essays, on rhetoric and lo¬ 
gic. In the latter I found a model of disputation after the 
manner of Socrates. Shortly after I procured Xenophon’s 
work, entitled, Memorable Things of Socrates, in which are 
various examples of the same method. Charmed to a degree 
of enthusiasm, with this mode of disputing, I adopted it, and 
renouncing blunt contradiction, and direct and positive ar¬ 
gument, 1 assumed the character of an humble questioner. 

21. This method 1 continued to employ for some years; but 
I afterwards abandoned it by degrees, retaining only the ha¬ 
bit of expressing myself with modest diffidence, and never 
making use, when I advanced any proposition which might 
be controverted, of the words certainly, undoubtedly, or any 

i others that might give the appearance of being obstinately at¬ 
tached to my opinion. 

22. This habit I believe has been of great advantage to me, 
when I have had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and per¬ 
suade men into measures that I have been from time to time 
engaged in promoting; and as the chief ends of conversation 
are to inform, or to be informed, to please or to persuade, I 
wish well meaning and sensible men would not lessen their 
power of doing good by a positive assuming manner that sel¬ 
dom fails to disgust, tends to create opposition, and to defeat 
most of those purposes for which speech was given to us. 

23. In fact, if you wish to instruct others, a positive and 
dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments, may occa¬ 
sion opposition, and prevent a candid attention. If you de¬ 
sire improvement from others, you should not at the same 
time express yourself fixed in your present opinions; modest 
and sensible men who do not love disputation, will leave you 
undisturbed in the possession of your errors. 

24. My brother .considered himself as my master, and me 
as his apprentice, and accordingly expected the same services 
from me as he would from another, while I thought he de¬ 
graded me too much in some things lie required of me, who, 

j from a brother, required more indulgence. Our disputes 
were often brought before our father, and I fancy I was either 
generally in the right, or else abetter pleader, for the judg¬ 
ment was generally in my favor; 

25. But my brother was passionate, and often had recourse 
to blows; a circumstance which 1 took in very ill part. This 

i severe and tyrannical treatment contributed, 1 believe, to 







188 


imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary povver, which 
during my whole life I have ever preserved. My apprentice¬ 
ship became insupportable to me, and 1 continually sighed for 
an opportunity of shortening it, which at length unexpected¬ 
ly offered. 


SECTION II. 


HAVING LEFT HIS BROTHER, BE GOES TO PHILADELPHIA; AND AFTERWARDS 
TO LONDON. HIS TEMPERANCE, INDUSTRY AND FRUGALITY, WHILE EM¬ 
PLOYED AS A JOURNEYMAN PRINTER IN THOSE CITIES. 

1. My trunk and effects having now arrived, [in Philadel¬ 
phia,] I thought of making, in the eyes of Miss Read, [to 
whom he was, several years afterwards, married,] a more res¬ 
pectable appearance than when chance exhibited me to her 
view, [on his first arrival in the city] eating my roll, and wan¬ 
dering; in the streets. 

2. From this period I began to contract acquaintance with 
such young people of the town as were fond of reading, and 
spent my evenings with them agreeably, while at the same 
time, I gained money by my industry, and, thanks to my fru¬ 
gality, lived contented. 

3. My most intimate acquaintance at this time were 
Charles Osoorne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph; young 
men who were all fond of reading. It was a custom with us 
to take a charming walk on Sundays, in the woods that bor¬ 
der on the Schuylkill. Here we read together, and afterwards 
conversed on what we read. 

4. While I lodged in little Britain, [being then in London] 
I formed acquaintance with a bookseller of the name of Wil¬ 
cox, whose shop was next door to me. Circulating libraries 
were not then in use. He had an immense collection of books 
•f all sorts. 

5. We agreed that, fora reasonable retribution, of which I 
have now forgotten the price, I should have free access to his 
library, and take what books 1 pleased, whifch L was to return 
when I had read them. I considered this agreement as a ve¬ 
ry great advantage, and I derived from it as much benefit as 
was in my power. 

6. I now began to think of laying by some money. The 
printing-house of Watts, near Lincoln’s Inn-Fields, being a 
still more considerable one than thai in which I worked, it 
was probable 1 might find it more advantageous to be employ- 






189 


ed there. I offered myself, and was accepted; and in this 
house I continued during the remainder of my stay in Lon¬ 
don. 

7. On my entrance I worked at first as a pressman; con¬ 
ceiving that I had need of bodily exercise', to which I had been 
accustomed in America, where the printers work alter¬ 
nately as compositors and at the press. I drank nothing 
but water. The other workmen, to the number of about fifty, 
were great drinkers of beer. 

8. I carried occasionally a large form of letters in each 
hand, up and down stairs, while the rest employed both hands 
to carry one. They were surprised to see, by this and many 
other examples, that the American Aquatic, [Water-Ameri¬ 
can,'] as they used to call me was stronger than those who 
drank porter. 

9. The beer boy had sufficient employment during the 
whole day in serving that house alone. My fellow pressman 
drank every day a pint of beer before breakfast, a pitit with 
-bre&i and cheese for breakfast, one between breakfast and 
dinner, one at dinner, one again about six o’clock in the af¬ 
ternoon, and another after he had finished his day’s work. 

I This custom appeared to me abominable; but he had need, 
he said, of all this beer, in order to acquire strength to work. 

10. I endeavored to convince him that bodily strength 
furnished by the beer, could only be in proportion to the solid 
part of the barley dissolved in the water of which the beer 
was composed; that there was a larger portion of flour in a 
penny loaf, and that, consequently, if he eat this loaf, and 
drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more strength 
from it than a pint of beer. 

11. This reasoning, however, did not prevent him from 
drinking his accustomed quantity of beer, and paying every 
.Saturday night a score of four or five shillings a week for 
this vile beverage; an expense from which I was wholly ex¬ 
empt. Thus do these poor creatures continue all their lives 
in a state of voluntary wretchedness and poverty. 

12. My example prevailed with several of them to renounce 
their abominable practice of bread and cheese with beer; and 
they procured, like me, from a neighboring house, a good ba¬ 
son of warm gruel, in which was a small slice of butter, with 
toasted bread and nutmeg. This w'as a much better breakfast 
which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, three 
haU-p ence > and at the same time preserving the head clean* 



190 


13. Those who continued to gorge themselves with beer 
often lost their credit with the publican, from neglecting to 
pay their score. They had then recourse to me, to become 
security for them; their light, as they used to call it, being 
out. 1 attended at the pay table every Saturday evening, to 
take up the little sum of money which I had made myself an¬ 
swerable for; and which sometimes amounted to nearly thirty 
shillings a week. 

14. This circumstance, added to my reputation of being a 
tolerable good gabber, or in other words, skilful in the art of 
burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. I had be¬ 
sides, recommended myself to the esteem of my master by 
my assiduous application to business, never observing Saint 
Monday. My extraordinary quickness in composing always 
procured me such work as was most urgent, and which is 
commonly best paid; and thus my time passed away in a very 
pleasant manner. 

15. At Watt’s printing house, I contracted an acquaint¬ 
ance with an ingenious man of the name of WygaJf, who, 
having wealthy relations, had been better educated than most 
printers. He at length proposed to me travelling all over 
Europe together, supporting ourselves every where by work¬ 
ing at our business. 

16. I was once inclined to it; but mentioning it to my good 
friend Mr. Denham, with whom \ often spent an hour when I 
had leisure, hedissauded me from it; advising me to think on^ 
ly of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was about to do. 

IT. I must record one trait of this good man’s character, 
lie had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failed, m 
debt to a number of people, compounded with his creditors, 
and went to America: there, by close application to business 
as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few years. 

18. Returning to England it) the ship with me, he invited 
his old creditors to an entertainment, at which he thanked 
them for the easy terms of compromise they had favored him 
with, and when they expected nothing but the treat, every 
man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a 
banker for the full amount of the unpaid balance, with inter¬ 
est. 


19. Thus I passed about eighteen months in London; most 
part of the time I worked hard at my business, and spent but 
little upon myself, except in seeing plays, and in books. I had 
improved my knowledge, however, though 1 had by no, meaus 









191 


improved my Fortune: but 1 had made some very ingenious^, 
acquaintance, whose conversation was of great advantage to 
me; and I had read considerably. 

20. We sailed from Gravesend, on the 23d July, 1 726. The 
most important part of my journal of the voyage, is the plan 
to be found in it, which I formed at sea for regulating the fu¬ 
ture conduct of my life. It is the more remarkable, as being 
formed when I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully 
adhered to quite through to old age. 


SECTION III. 

FRANKLIN ESTABLISHES A PRINTING nOUSE IN PHILADELPHIA; RESOLVES ON 
THE INFLEXIBLE PRACTICE OF TRUTH, PROBITY, AND SINCERITY; GAINS 
THE REPUTATION OF INDUSTRY AND PUNCTUALITY; POUNDS A SOCIETY FOR 
MENTAL IMPROVEMENT, &.C. 

1. Before I relate the particulars of my entrance into busi¬ 
ness, it may be proper to inform you what was at that time 
the state of my mind as to moral principles, that you may see 
the degree of influence they had upon the subsequent events 
of my life. 

2. In a word, I was at last convinced that truth, probity, 
and sincerity, in transactions between man and man, were of 
the utmost importance to the happiness of life; and I resolved 
from that moment, and wrote the resolution in my journal, 
to practise them as long as I lived. Thus, before I entered 
on my new career, I had imbibed solid principles, and a char¬ 
acter of probity. I knew their value; and I made a solemn 
engagement with myself never to depart from them. 

3. I ought to have related, that, during the autumn of the 
preceding year, I had united the majority of well-informed 
persons of my acquaintance into a club, which we called by 
the name of the Junto y and the object of which was to improve 
our understandings. We met every Friday evening. 

4. The regulations I drew up, obliged every member to 
propose in his turn, one or more questions upon some point 
of morality, politics, or philosophy, which were to be discus¬ 
sed by the society; and to read, once in three months, an es¬ 
say of his own composition, on whatever subject he pleased. 

5. Our debates were under the direction of a president, and 
were to be dictated only by a sincere desire of truth; the 
pleasure of disputing, and the vanity of triumph having na 
share in the business; and in order to prevent undue warmth. 



192 


every expression 'which implied obstinate adherence to an 
opinion, and all direct contradiction, were prohibited, under 
small pecuniary penalties 

6. This was the best school of politics and philosophy that 
then existed in the province; for our questions, which were 
read a week previous to their discussion, induced us to pe¬ 
ruse attentively such books as we rewritten upon the subjects 
proposed, that we might be able to speak upon them more 
pertinently. 

7. We thus acquired the habit of conversing more agree¬ 
ably; every subject being discussed conformably to our regu¬ 
lations, and in a manner to prevent mutual disgust. To this 
circumstance may be attributed the long duration of the club; 
which I shall have frequent occasion to mention as 1 proceed. 

8. 1 began to pay, by degrees, the debt I had contracted; 
and in order to insure my credit and character as a trades¬ 
man, I took care not only to be really industrious and frugal, 
but also to avoid every appearance of the contrary. I was 
plainly dressed, and never seen in any place of public amuse¬ 
ment. 

9. I never went a fishing or hunting: a book indeed enticed 
me sometimes from my work, but it was seldom, by stealth, 
-and occasioned no scandal; and to show that I did not think 
myself above my profession, I conveyed home sometimes in 
a wheel barrow the paper I purchased at the warehouses. 

10. 1 thus obtained the reputation of being an industrious 
young man, and very punctual in his payments. The mer¬ 
chants who imported articles of stationery, solicited my cus¬ 
tom; others offered to furnish me with books, and my little 
trade went on prosperously. 



193 


CHAPTER 2. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF BENJA¬ 
MIN FRANKLIN, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 

SECTION I. 

LETTER FROM MR. ABEL JAMES, WITH NOTES ON MY LIFE. 

(Received in Paris.) 

1. M My dear and honored Friend ,—I have often been de¬ 
sirous of writing to thee,” &c. “ Some time since there fell 
into my hands, to my great joy, about twenty-three sheets in 
thy own hand writing, containing an account of the parentage 
and life of thyself, directed to thy son, ending in the year 
1730, with which there were notes, likewise in thy writing; a 
copy of which I enclose, in hopes it may be a means, if thou 
continued it up to a latter period, that the first and latter part 
may be put together; and if it is not yet continued, I hope thee 
will not delay it. 

2. “Life is uncertain, as the preacher tells us; and what 
will the world say, if kind, humane, and benevolent Ben. 
Frankiin should leave his friends and the world deprived of 
so pleasing and profitable a work: a work which would be 
useful and entertaining not only to a few, but to millions. 

3. “The influence writings under that class have on the 
minds of youth, is very great, and has no where appeared to 
me so plain, as in our public friend’s journals. It almost in¬ 
sensibly leads the youth into the resolution of endeavoring to 
become as good and eminent as the journalist. Should thine, 
for instance, when published, (and I think it could not fail of 
it,) lead the youth to equal the industry and temperance of 
thy early youth, what a blessing with that class would such a 
w ork be! 

4. “ I know r of no character living, nor many of them put 
together, who has so much in his power as thyself, to promote 
a greater spirit of industry and early attention to business, 
frugality, and temperance, with the American youth. Not 
that I think the work would have no other merit and use in 
the world; far from it; but the first is of such vast importance 
that I know nothing that can equal it.” 

5. Extracts of a Letter from Mr. Benjamin Vaughan . 
« Your history is so remarkable, that if you do not give it, 
somebody else will^certainly give it; and perhaps so as nearly 

17 


194 


to do as much harm, as your own management of the thing 
might do good. 

6. “ But these, Sir, are small reasons, in my opinion, com¬ 
pared with the chance which your life would give for the I 
forming of future great men; and in conjunction with your I 
Jirt of Virtue , (which you design to publish,) of improving 
the features of private character, and consequently of aiding j 
all happiness, both public and domestic. 

7. “ The two works I allude to, Sir, will give a noble rule 
and example of self-education. School and other education 
constantly proceed upon false principles, and show a clumsy | 
apparatus pointed at a false mark; but your apparatus is sim- j 
pie, and the mark a true one; and while parents and young j 
persons are left destitute of other just means of estimating j 
and becoming prepared for a reasonable course in life, your 
discovery, that the thing is in many a man’s private power, 
will be invaluable! 

8. “ Influence upon the private character, late in life, is not 
only an influence late in life, but a weak influence. It is in 
youth that we plant our chief habits anti prejudices; it is in 
youth we take our party as to profession, pursuits, and ma¬ 
trimony. In youth, therefore, the turn is given; in youth 
the education even of the next generation is given; in youth 
the private and public character is determined; and the term 
of life extending but from youth to age, life ought to berin 
well from youth; and more especially before we take our party 
as to our principal objects. 

9. n But your biography will not merely teach self-educa¬ 
tion, but the education of a icise man; and "the wisest man will 
receive lights, and improve his progress, by seeing detailed 
the conduct of another wise man. And "why are weaker 
men to be deprived of such helps, when we see our race has 
been blundering on in the dark, almost without a guide in 
this particular, from the farthest trace of time. 

10. “ The little private incidents which you will also have to 
relate, will have considerable use, as we want above all things, 
rules of prudence in ordinary affairs; and it will be curious 
to see how you have acted in these. It will be so far a sort 
of key to life, and explain many things that all men ought to 
have once explained to them, to give them a chance of becom¬ 
ing wise by foresight. 

11. “ Your account of yourself will show that you are 
ashamed of no origin; a thing the more important, as you 
prove how little necessary all origin is to happiness, virtue or 







195 


greatness.’’ “ Another tiling demonstrated, will be the pro* 
priety of every man’s waiting for ills time for appearing upon 
the stage of the world.” 

12. “ For the furtherance of human happiness, I have al¬ 
ways maintained that it is necessary to prove that man is not 
even at present a vicious and detestable animal; and still more 
to prove that good management may greatly amend him.” 

15. “ As I have not read any part of the life in question, 
but know only the character that lived it, I write somewhat 
at hazard. 1 am sure, however, that the life, and the treatise 
alluded to, (on the Jirt of Virtue,) will necessarily fulfil the 
chief of my expectations.” 

— 

SECTION II. 

i CONTINUATION. HE ESTABLISHES A PUBLIC LIBRARY IN PHI¬ 
LADELPHIA. LUXURY INTRODUCED IN HIS FAMILY BY HIS 

WIFE. HIS RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES, AND REASONS FOR WITH¬ 
DRAWING FROM PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

1. At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania, there 
was not a good bookseller’s shop in any of the colonies to the 
southward of Boston. In New York and Philadelphia, the 
printers were indeed stationers, but they sold only paper, 
&c. almanacs, ballads, and a few common school-books. 

2. Those who loved reading were obliged to send for their 
books from England: the members of the Junto had each a 
few. I proposed that we should all of us bring our books to 
the club room; where they would not only be ready to consult 
in our conferences, but become a common benefit, each of us 
being at liberty to borrow such as he wished to read at home. 
Finding the advantage of this little collection, I proposed to 
render the benefit from the books more common,by commenc* 
n g a public subscription library. 

d. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would be ne¬ 
cessary, and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brogden, 
to put the whole in form of articles of agreement to be sub¬ 
scribed. So few were.jhe readers at that time in Philadel¬ 
phia, and the majority of us so poor, that I was not able, with 
great industry, to find more than fifty persons,(mostly young 
tiadesmen,) willing to pay down for the purpose, forty shil¬ 
lings each, and ten shillings per annum: with tins little fund 
we began. 






496 

4. The books were imported; the library was open one day 
in the week for lending them to subscribers, on their promis¬ 
sory notes to pay double the value if not duly returned. The 
institution soon manifested its utility, was imitated in other 
towns, and in other provinces. The libraries were augment¬ 
ed by donations; readingbecame fashionable; and our people 
having no public amusements to divert their attention from 
study, became better acquainted with books; and in a few 
years were observed by strangers, to be better instructed, and 
more intelligent than people of the same rank generally are ; 
in other countries. 

5. The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting j 
the subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of pre- j 
senting oneself as the proposer of any useful project, that 
might be supposed to raise one's reputation in the smallest 
degree above that of one’s neighbors, when one has need of 
their assistance to accomplish that project. 

6. I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, 
and stated it as a scheme of a number of friends, who had re¬ 
quested of me to go about and propose it to such as they 
thought lovers of reading. In this way my affair went on 
more smoothly, and I ever after practised it on such occasions; 
and from my frequent successes can heartily recommend it. 

7. This library afforded me the means of improvement by 
constant study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day; 
and thus repaired in some degree the loss of the learned edu¬ 
cation my father once intended for me. Heading w as the on¬ 
ly amusement I allowed myself. I spent no time in taverns, 
games, or frolics of any kind; and my industry in my business 
continued as indefatigable as it was necessary. 

8. We have an English proverb that says, “ He that would 
thrive must ask his wife.” It was lucky for me that I had 
one as much disposed to industry and frugality as myself. 
She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitch¬ 
ing pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for 
the papermakers, &c. We kept no idle servants, our table 
was plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest.. 

9. For instance, my breakfast was for a long time bread 

and milk, (no tea) and I ate it out.of a two penny earthen 
porringer, with a pewter spoon: but mark how luxury will 
enter families, and make a progress in spite of principle; 
being called one morning to breakfast, I found it in a china 
bowl, with a spoon of silver. | 





197 


10. They had been bought for me, without my knowledge, 
by my wife, and had cost her the enor mous sum of three and 
twenty shillings; for which she had no other excuse or apo¬ 
logy to make, but that she thought her husband deserved a 
silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his neighbors.* 
This was the first appearance of plate and china in our 
house, which afterwards, in a course of years, as our wealth 
increased, augmented gradually to several hundred pounds 
in value. 

11. I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; but 
though some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the 
eternal decrees of God, election, reprobation, &c. appeared 
to me unintelligible, and 1 early absented myself from the 
sect, (Sunday being my studying day) I never was without 
some religious principles: 1 never doubted, for instance, the 
existence of a Deity, that he made the world, and governed 
it by his providence; that the most acceptable service of’ God 
was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal; and 
that all crimes will be punished, and virtue rewarded, either 
here or hereafter. 

12. These I esteemed the essentials of every religion, and 
being to be found in all the religions we had in our country, 
I respected them all, though with different degrees of respect, 
as 1 found them more or less mixed with other articles, which, 
without any tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm mo¬ 
rality, served principally to divide us, and make us unfriend¬ 
ly to one another. 

13. This respect to all, with an opinion that the worst 
had some good effects, induced me to avoid all discourse that 
might tend to lessen the good opinion another might have 
of his own religion; and as our province increased in peo¬ 
ple, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and 
generally erected by voluntary contribution, my mite for 
such purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused. 

14. Though l seldom attended any public worship, 1 had 
still an opinion of its propriety, and of its utility when 
rightly conducted, and I regularly paid my annual subscrip¬ 
tion for the support of the only Presbyterian minister or 
meeting we had in Philadelphia. He used to visit me some* 

* This honest confession of Mrs. Franklin, discloses the principal 
cause of the slavery under which society suffers and struggles, from the 
rage of its members of all grades to imitate or excel each other in the 
display of external appearances — comp. 

* 17 




19S 


limes as a friend, and admonish me to attend his adminis¬ 
trations; and I now and then prevailed on myself to do so, 
once for five Sundays successively. 

15. Had he been in my opinion a good preacher, I might 
have continued, notwithstanding the occasion I had for the 
Sunday’s leisure in my course of study; but his discourses 
were chiefly either polemic arguments, or explications of the 
peculiar doctrines of our sect, and were all to me very dry, 
uninteresting and unedifying, since not a single moral prin¬ 
ciple was inculcated or enforced; their aim seeming to be 
rather to make us Presbyterians than good citizens. 

16. At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth 
chapter to the Phillipians, “ Finally, brethren, whatsover 
things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report, 
if there be any virtue, or any praise, think on these things.” 
And I imagined, in a sermon on such a text, we could not 
miss of having some morality. 

17. But he confined himself to five points only, as meant 
by the Apostle, viz. Keeping holy the Sabbath day. 2. Be¬ 
ing diligent in"reading the holy scriptures. 3. Attending duly" 
the public worship. 4. Partaking of the sacrament. 5. Pay¬ 
ing a due respect to God’s ministers. These might be all 
good things; but as they were not the kind of good things 
that I expected from that text, I despaired of ever meeting 
with them from any other, was disgusted, and attended his 
preaching no more. 

18. I had, some years before, composed a little liturgy, or 
form of prayer, for my own private use, (viz. in 1728,) en¬ 
titled Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion. I returned 
to the use of this, and went no more to the public assemblies. 
My conduct might be blameable, but I leave it without at¬ 
tempting farther to excuse it; my present purpose being to 
relate facts, and not to make apologies for them. 

SECTION III. 

HIS PROJECT OF ARRIVING AT MORAL PERFECTION! CATALOGUE 
AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE MORAL VIRTUES! ART OF VIRTUE. 

1. It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous 
project of arriving at moral perfection. X wished to live with¬ 
out committing any fault at anytime, and to conquer all that 
either natural inclination; custom or company, might lead me 
into. * 



2. As I knew, or thought I knew what was right and wrong, 
l did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid 
the other. But I soon found that I had undertaken a task of 
more difficulty than I had imagined; while my attention was 
taken up, and care employed in guarding against one fault, I 
was often surprised by another; habit took the advantage of 
inattention, inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. 

3. I concluded at length, that the mere speculative convic¬ 
tion, that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was 
not sufficient to prevent our slipping; and that the contrary 
habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and establish¬ 
ed, before we can have any dependence on a steady, uniform 
rectitude of conduct. For this purpose, therefore, I tried the 
following method: 

4. In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I had 
met with, in my reading, I found the catalogue more or less 
numerous, as different writers included more or fewer ideas 
under the same name. Temperance , for example, was by 

j some confined to eating and drinking; while by others it was 
extended to mean the moderating every other pleasure, ap¬ 
petite, inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our 
avarice and ambition. 

5. I proposed to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use ra¬ 
ther more names, with fewer ideas annexed to-each, than a 
few names with more ideas; and I included under thirteen 
names of virtues, all that at that time occurred to me as ne¬ 
cessary or desirable; and annexed to each a short precept, 
which explained the extent I gave to its meaning. 

6. These names of virtues, with their precepts, were: 

I. Temperance: Eat not to dullness; drink not to eleva¬ 
tion. 

II. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or your- 
I self; avoid trifling conversation. 

III. Order: Let all your things have their places: let each 
part of your business have its time. 

IV. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; per¬ 
form withoutfail what you resolve. 

7. V. Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others 
i or yourself: i. e. waste nothing. 

VI. Industry: Lose no time: be always employed in some¬ 
thing useful: cut oft*all unnecessary actions. 

VII. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit: think innocently 
and justly: and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 








200 


VIII. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting 
the benefits that are your duty. 

8. IX. Moderation: Avoid extremes: forbear resenting in¬ 
juries so much as you think they deserve. 

V nit n nrlpa n 1 1 n 


X. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, 
or habitation. 

XI. Tranquillity: Be not disturbed at trifles, lior at acci¬ 
dents common or unavoidable. 

XII. Chastity . 

XIII. Humility: Imitate Jesus . 

9. My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these ? 
virtues, I judged it would be well not to distract my attention 
by attempting the whole at once, but to fix it on one of them i 
at a time; and when I should be master of that, then to proceed 
to another; and so on till 1 should have gone through the 
thirteen: and as the previous acquisition of some, might faci¬ 
litate the acquisition of others, I arranged them with that 
view as they stand above. 

10. Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness 
and clearness of head, which is so necessary where constant 
vigilance was to be kept up, and a guard maintained against 
the unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of 
perpetual temptations. 

11. This being acquired and established. Silence would be 
more easy; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the 
same time that I improved in virtue; and considering that in 
conversation it was obtained rather by the use of the ear 
than of the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I 
was getting into, of prattling, punning, and jesting, (which, 
only made me acceptable to trifling company,) I gave silence 
the second place. 

1*2. This and the next, Order, I expected would allow me 
more time to attend to my project and my studies. Resolu¬ 
tion once become habitual, would keep me firm in my endea¬ 
vors to obtain all the subsequent virtues. Frugality and In¬ 
dustry, relieving me from my remaining debt, and producing 
affluence and independence, would make more easy the prac¬ 
tice of Sincerity and Justice, &c. &c. 

13. Conceiving then, agreeably to the advice of Pythagoras 
in his golden verses, daily examination would be necessary, I 
contrived the following method for conducting that examina¬ 
tion: 

14. I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each 


—- 





201 


, of the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink. so as to have 
seven columns, one for each day in the week, marking each 
. column with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns 
with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line 
with the first letter of one of the virtues; on which line, and in 
its proper column, 1 might mark by a little black spot every 
. fault I found upon examination to have been committed res¬ 
pecting that virtue,upon that day.* 

Form of the Pages . 

s TEMPERANCE. 

a 

EAT NOT TO DULNESSJ DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION. 



Sun JMon. 

Tues.] 

j Wed.) Thu. | Fri. 

Sat. 

Tern. 




1 i 


Sil. 

* 

-* 


-* 

* 

j 


DrdT 


* 

* 



* 

* 

Res. 


* 




#• 


Fru. 


* 

* 



* 


Ind. 








Sine. 








Jus. 








Mod. 



i 





j Clea. 



1 





; 1 run. 



1 

I 




jChas. 

ilium. 



i 

l 






1 

I 





15. 1 determined to give a week’s attention to each of the 
( virtues successively. Thus in the first week, my great regard 
was to avoid every the least offence against Temperance; 

( leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chances, only mark¬ 
ing every evening the faults of the day. 

16. Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line 
marked 'Pern, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that vir¬ 
tue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that 
I might venture extending my attention to include the next; 

* This book is dated Sunday, 12th July, 1733, and is in the pos¬ 
session of Mr. W. T. Franklin, gtandson of Dr. Franklin. 












































































202 


and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots 
Proceeding thus to the last, I could get through a course com 
plete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. 

17. And like him who having a garden to weed, does no' 
attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, (which would 
exceed his reach and his strength,) but works on one of the 
beds at a time, and having accomplished the first, proceeds tc 
a second; sol should have (I hoped) the encouraging plea¬ 
sure, of seeing on my pages the progress made in virtue, by 
clearing successively my lines of their spots; till in the end, 
by a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean 
book, after a thirteen week’s daily examination. 

18. This my little book had for its motto, these lines from 
Addison’s Cato; 

“ Here will I hold: if there’s a power above us, 

(And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue; 

And that which he delights in must be happy!” 

19. Another from the proverbs of Solomon, speaking of 
wisdom and virtue; 

“ Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand 
riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
all her paths are peace.” 

20. Another from Cicero;—“O vit<£ philosophia dux! O 
virtutum indigatrix expultrixque vitiorum! Uuus Dies bene, 
et ex preeceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitanti est ante 
ponendus.” 

21. And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I 
thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for ob¬ 
taining it; to this end I formed the following little prayer, 
which was prefixed to my tables of examination, for daily use. 

" O poiverful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guidel 
Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my truest inter¬ 
est: Strengthen my resolution to perform what that wisdom, 
dictates: Accept my kind offices to thy other children, as the 
only return in my power for thy continual favors to me .” 

22. I used also sometimes a little prayer, which I took from 
Thomson’s poems, viz. 

“ Father of light and life, thou God supreme! 

O teach me what is good; teach me thyself! 

Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 

From every low pursuit; and fill my soul 





203 


With knowledge , conscious peace, and virtue pure) 
Sacred , substantial, never fading bliss /” 

23. The precept of order, requiring that every part of mij 
business should have its allotted time, one page in my little 
book contained the following scheme of employment for the* 
twenty-four hours of a natural day:— 

SCHEME. 

f hours. 

Rise, wash, and address Power- 


Morning. 

The question, What good 
shall I do this day? 


{?} 


ful Goodness! contrive day’s 
business, and take the resolu* 
tion of the day, prosecute the 
present study, and breakfast, 

C S') 

' 10 h Work - 

UU 


I 

1 


*\*oon. 


Afternoon. 


Evening. 

The question, What good 
have I done to-day. 



Read, or look over my ac¬ 
counts and dine. 


J>Work. 


ight. 



Put things in their places. 
~ 1 Supper, music, or diver¬ 
sion, or conversation. 
Examination of the day. 


]>Sleep. 


24. I entered upon this plan for self examination, and con¬ 
tinued it with occasional intermissions for some time. I was 
surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had 
imagined; but l had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. 

25. To avoid the trouble of renewing now and then my lit¬ 
tle book, which, by scraping out the marks on the paper of 
old faults to make room for new ones in a new course, be¬ 
came full of holes, I transferred my tables and precepts to 











204 


the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines 
were drawn with red ink, that made a durable stain; and on 
those lines I marked my faults with a black lead pencil; which 
mark I could easily wipe out with a wet sponge. 

£6. After a while I went through one course only in a 
year, and afterwards only in'several years; till I at length 
omitted them entirely, being employed in voyages and busi- , 
ness abroad, with a multiplicity of affairs, that interfered; but ( 
I always carried my little book with me. 

27. My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble; and f 

found that though it might be practicable when a man’s busi- j 
ness was such as to leave him the disposition of his time, that ; 
of a journeyman printer, for instance, it was not possible to - 
be exactly observed by a master, who must mix with the t 
world, and often receive people of business at their own \ 
hours. t 

28. Order too, with regard to places for things, papers, &c. ( 
I found extremely difficult to acquire. I had not been early 
accustomed to method , and having an exceeding good memo-* i 
ry, I was not sensible of the inconvenience attending want , 
of method. This article therefore cost me much painful at- j 
tention, and my faults in it vexed me so much, and I made so r 
little progress in amendment, and had such frequent relapses, r 
that I was almost ready to give up the attempt, and content 
myself with a faulty character in that respect. 

29. Like the man who, in buying an axe of a smith, my 
neighbor desired to have the whole of its surface as bright 
as tne edge: the smith consented to grind it bright for him, j 
if he would turn the wheel: he turned while the smith press¬ 
ed the broad face of the axe hard and heavily on the stone, 
which made the turning of it very fatiguing. The man came 
every now and then to see how the work went on; and at! 
length would take the axe as it was, without further grind¬ 
ing. 

SO. No, said the smith, turn on, turn on, we shall have if 
bright by and by; as yet, *tis only speckled. Yes, said the 
man, but “ I think I like a speckled axe best** And l be¬ 
lieve this may have been the case with many, who, having 
for want of some such means as I employed, found the diffi- 
culty of obtaining good and breaking bad habits in other 
points of vice and virtue, have given up the struggle, and 
concluded that ' 4 a speckled axe was best** 

31. For something, that pretended to be reason, was every 






205 


now and then suggesting to me, that such extreme nicety 
as I exacted of myself might be a kind of foppery in morals, 
which, if it were known, would make me ridiculous; that a 
perfect character might be attended with the inconvenience 
of being envied and hated; and that a benevolent man should 
allow a few faults in himself to keep his friends in counte¬ 
nance. In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect 
to order; and now I am grown old, and my memory bad, I 
feel very sensibly the want of it. 

32. But on the whole, though I never arrived at the per¬ 
fection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far 
short of it, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and a hap- 

1 pier man than I otherwise should have been, if I had not at- 
5 tempted it; as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating 
the engraved copies, though they never reach the wished-for 
excellence of those copies, their hand is mended by the en¬ 
deavor, and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible. 

33. It may be well my posterity should be informed, that 
»• to this little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor 
t owed the constant felicity of his life down to his 79th year, 

> in which this is written. What reverses may attend the 

remainder, are in the hand of Providence; but if they ar¬ 
rive, the reflection on past happiness enjoyed, ought to help 
his bearing them with more resignation. To temperance he 
ascribes his long continued health, and what is still left to 
him of a good constitution. 34. To industry and frugality, the 
early easiness of his circumstances, and acquisition of his 
fortune, with all that knowledge that enabled him to be an 
useful citizen, and obtained for him some degree of repu¬ 
tation among the learned. To sincerity and justice , the 
confidence of his country, and the honorable employs it con¬ 
ferred on him: and to the joint influence of the whole mass 
of the virtues, even in the imperfect state he was able to 
acquire them, all that evenness of temper, and that cheer- 
■ fulness in conversation which makes his company still sought 
(. for, and agreeable even to his young acquaintance. I hope, 
therefore, that some of my descendants may follow the ex¬ 
ample and reap the benefit 

35. It will be remarked that, though my scheme was not 
wholly without religion, there was in it no mark of any of 
! the distinguishing tenets of any particular sect: I had pur¬ 
posely avoided them; for being fully persuaded of the utility 
i ahd excellency of my method, and that it might be service- 
18 







206 


able to people in all religions, and intending some time or 
other to publish it, I would not have any thing in it that 
should prejudice any one,of any sect, against it 36.1 proposed 
writing a little comment on each virtue, in which I would 
have shewn the advantages of possessing it, and the mis¬ 
chiefs of its opposite vice: I should have called my book 
The Jlrt of Virtue, because it would have shown the means 
and manner of obtaining virtue, which would have distin¬ 
guished it from the mere exhortation to be good, that does 
not instruct and indicate the means, but is like the Apostle’s 
man of verbal charity, who, without showing to the naked 
and hungry how or where they might get clothes ©r victuals, 
only exhorted them to be fed and clothed .—James ii. 15, 16. 

37. But it so happened, that my intention of w riting and 
publishing this comment w r as never fulfilled. I had, indeed* 
from time to time, put down short hints of the sentiments, ; 
reasonings, &c. to be made use of in it; some of which 1 have 
still by me; but the necessary close attention to private 
business in the earlier part ofc life, and public business since, 
have occasioned my postponing it. 

38. For it being connected in my mind with a great and 
extensive project that required the whole man to execute, 
and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented 
my attention to, it has hitherto remained unfinished. 

39. In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce 
the doctrine, that vicious actions are not hurtful, because 
they are forbidden, but forbidden because they are hurtful: 
the nature of man alone considered: that it was therefore 
every one’s interest to be virtuous, who wished to be happy, 
even in this world: and 1 should, from this circumstance, 
have endeavored to convince young persons that no qualities 
are so likely to make a poor man’s fortune as those of probi- ! 
ty and integrity. 

40. My list of virtues contained, at first, but twelve: But 
a Quaker friend having kindly informed me that 1 was gene¬ 
rally thought proud; that my pride showed itself frequently 
in conversation; that I was not content with being in the 
right when discussing any point, but was overbearing and 
rather insolent, (of which he convinced '>e by mentioning 
seNeral instances,) 1 determined to endeavor to cure myself if 
I could, of this vice or folly among the rest; and I added 
humility to my list, giving an extensive meaning to the word. 

41. I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality 





207 


1 of this virtue* but T hid a good deal with regard to the a}- 
| pearauce of it. I made it a rule to forbear all direct con¬ 
tradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive as- 
| sertion of mine own. I soon found the advantage of this 
j change in my manners; the conversations I engaged in went 
on more pleasantly. 

42. The modest way in which I proposed my opinions, 
procured them a readier reception and less contradiction; L 
had less mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, 
and I more easily prevailed with others to give up their mis¬ 
takes and join with me when l happened to be in the light. 
And this mode, which I at first put with some violence to 
natural inclination, became at length easy, and so habitual 
to me, that, perhaps, for the fifty years past no one has ever 
heard a dogmatical expression escape me. 

43. And to this habit (after my character of integrity) I 
think it principally owing that I had early so much weight 
with my fellow-citizens when 1 proposed new institutions, 
or alterations in the' old, and so much influence in public 
councils, when I became a member; for I was but a bad 
speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my 
choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet 1 gene¬ 
rally carried my point. 

44. In reality there is, perhaps, no one of our natural pasr 
sions so hard to subdue as pride; disguise it, struggle with 
it, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, 
and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you 
will see it perhaps often in this history. For even if I could 
conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should proba¬ 
bly be proud of my humility. 

[Here concludes what was w ritten atPassy, near Paris/] 


SECTION II. 

franklin’s extensive project of raising a united party 

'lO VIRTUE, &c. 

MEMORANDUM. 

lam note about to write at home , (Philadelphia,) August, 
1788, but cannot have the help expected from my papers, ma¬ 
ny of them being lost in the war. I have however found the 
fallowing: 

1. Having mentioned a great and extensive project which 
I had conceived, it seems proper, that some account should 



208 


be here given of that project and its object. Its first rise in 
nly mind appears in a little paper accidentally preserved, viz. 
“ Observations on my reading history, in library. May 9, 

2. “ That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolu¬ 
tions, &c. are carried on and effected by parties. That the 
view of these parties is their present general interest; or 
what they take to be such. That the different views of these 
different parties occasion all confusion. That while a party 
is carrying on a general design, each man has his particular 
private object in view. 

3. “ That as soon as a party has gained its general point, 
each member becomes intent upon his particular interest, 
which thwarting others, breaks that party into divisions and 
occasions more confusion. 

4. “ That few in public affairs act from a mere view of the 
good of others, whatever they may pretend; and though their 
actings bring real good to their country, yet men primarily 
considered, that their own and their contry’s interest were 
united, and so did not act from a principle of benevolence. 
That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a view to the 
good of mankind. 

5. “ There seems to me at present to be great occasion for 
raising a United party to Virtue , by forming the virtuous and 
good men of all nations into a regular body, to be governed 
by suitable good and wise rules, which good and wise men. 
may probably be more unanimous in their obedience to, than 
common people are to common laws. 

6. “ I at present think, that whoever attempts this aright, 

and is well qualified, cannot fail of pleasing God, and of meet¬ 
ing with success. B. F.” 

7. Revolving this project in my mind, as to be undertak¬ 
en hereafter, when my circumstances should afford me the 
necessary leisure, I put down from time to time, on pieces of 
paper, such thoughts as occurred to me respecting it. Most 
of these are lost. 

8. My ideas at that time were, that the sect should be begun 
and spread at first, among young and single men only, that 
each person to be initiated, should have exercised himself 
with the thirteen weeks examination and practice of all the 
virtues, as in the beforementioned model; that the existence 
of such a society should be kept a secret, till it had become 
considerable, to prevent solicitations for the admission of im- 



209 


proper members; but that the members should each of them 
search among his acquaintance for ingenious, well-disposed 
' youths, to whom, with prudent caution, the scheme should 
be gradually communicated. 

9. That the members should engage to afford their advice, 
assistance, and support to each other, in promoting one ano¬ 
ther’s interest, business, and advancement in life: That for 
distinction, we should be called The Society of the Free and 
Easy. Free , as being by the general practice and habits of 
the virtues, free from the dominion of vice; and particularly 

; by the practice of industry and frugality, free from debt, which 
exposes a man to constraint, and a species of slavery to his 
creditors. 

10. I communicated the project in part to two young men, 
who adopted it with enthusiasm: but my then narrow circum¬ 
stances, and the necessity I was under of sticking close to 
my business, occasioned my postponing the further prosecu* 
tion of it at that time, and my multifarious occupations, pub¬ 
lic and private, induced me to continue postponing, so that 
it has been omitted, till I have no longer strength or activity 
left, sufficient for such an enterprise. 

11. Though I am still of opinion it was a practicable scheme, 
and might have been very useful, by forming a great number 
of good citizens: and I was not discouraged by the seeming 
magnitude of the undertaking, as I have always thought that 
one man of tolerable abilities, may work great changes, and 
accomplish great affairs among mankind, if he first forms a 
good plan; and cutting ott’all amusements and other employ¬ 
ments that would divert his attention, makes the execution 

I of that same plan, his whole study and business. 

12. In 1732,1 first published my almanac, under the name 
of Richard Sanders; it was continued by me about twenty* 
five years, and commonly called Poor Richard's Almanac. 

I endeavoured to make it both entertaining and useful, and 
it accordingly came to be in such demand that I reaped con¬ 
siderable profit from it; vending annually, near ten thousand. 

13. And observing that it was generally read, (scarce any 
neighborhood in the province being without it,) I considered it 
a proper vehicle for conveying instruction among the common 
people, who bought scarcely any other books. I therefore 
filled all the little spaces that occurred between the remark¬ 
able days in the Calendar, with proverbial sentences, chiefly 
such as inculcated industry and frugality, as the means of 

* 18 





210 


procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being more 
difficult for a man in want to act always honestly, as (to use 
here one of those proverbs,} “ it is hard for an empty sack to 
stand upright* 

14. These proverbs which contained the wisdom of many 
ages and nations, I assembled and formed into a connected 
discourse prefixed to the Almanack of 1757, as the harangue 
of a wise old man to the people attending an auction: the 
bringing all these scattered counsels thus into a focus, ena¬ 
bled them to make greater impression. 

15. The piece being universally approved, was copied in 
all the newspapers of the American Continent, reprinted in 
Britain on a large sheet of paper, to be stuck up in houses f 
two translations were made in France, and great numbers 
bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis among 
their poor parishioners and tenants. 

16. In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged useless expense in 
foreign superfluities, some thought it had its share of influ¬ 
ence in producing that growing plenty of money which w r as 
observable for several years after its publication. 

17. I considered my newspaper as another means of com ¬ 
municating instruction, and in that view frequently reprinted 
in it extracts from the Spectator, and other moral writers; and 
sometimes published little pieces of mine own, which had 
been first composed for reading in our Junto . 

18. Of these are a Socratic dialogue, tending to prove, that 
whatever might be his parts and abilities, a vicious man could 
not properly be called a man of sense: and a <Uscourse on 
self denial, showing that virtue was not secure till its prac¬ 
tice became a habitude., and was free from the opposition of 
contrary inclinations: these may be found in the papers about 
the beginning of 1735. 

19. In the conduct of my newspaper I carefully excluded 
all libelling and personal abuse, which is of late years be¬ 
come so disgraceful to our country. 

20. Whenever I was solicited to insert any thing of that 
kind, and the writers pleaded (as they generally did) the li¬ 
berty of the press; and that a newspaper was like a stage¬ 
coach, in which any one who would pay had a right to a place; 
roy answer was, that 1 would print the piece separately, if 
desired, and the author might have as many copies as he 
pleased to distribute himself; but that 1 would not take upon 
me to spread his detraction; and that having contracted with 



211 


my subscribers to furnish them with what might be either 
useful or entertaining, I could not fill their papers with pri¬ 
vate altercation, in which they had no concern, without doing 
them manifest injustice. 

21. Now, many of our printers make no scruple of gratify¬ 
ing the malice of individuals, by false accusations of the fair¬ 
est characters among ourselves, augmenting animosity even 
to the producing of duels; and are, moreover, so indiscreet as 
to print scurrilous reflections on the government of neighbor¬ 
ing states, and even on the conduct of our best national al¬ 
lies, which may be attended with the most pernicious conse¬ 
quences. 

22. These things I mention as a caution to young printers, 
and that they be encouraged not to pollute the presses, and 
disgrace their profession by such infamous practices, but re¬ 
fuse steadily, as they may see by my example, that such a 
course of conduct will not on the whole be injurious to their 
interests.* 

23. After ten years* absence from Boston, and having be¬ 
come easy in my circumstances, I made a journey thither to 
visit my relations, which I could not sooner afford. In re¬ 
turning I called at Newport, to see my brother James, then 
settled there with his printing house: our former differences 
were forgotten, and our meeting was very cordial and affec¬ 
tionate: he was fast declining in health, and requested of me 
that in case of his death, which he apprehended not far dis¬ 
tant, I would take home his son, then but twelve years of age, 
and bring him up to the printing business. 

24. This 1 accordingly performed, sending him a few years 
to school before I took him into the office. His mother car¬ 
ried on the business till he was grown up, when I assisted 
him with an assortment of new types, those of his father be¬ 
ing in a manner worn out. Thus it was that I made my 
brother ample amends for the service I had deprived him of 
by leaving him so early. 

* These remarks of Dr. Franklin on the injustice and injurious conse¬ 
quences resulting from the consent of editors of newspapers to their be¬ 
coming instruments of personal and private resentment, are equally appli- 
cable to the practise pf spreading the seeds of animosity and strife ver¬ 
bally. 






212 

CHAPTER 3. 

ABRIDGEMENT OF CICERO’S DISCOURSE ON OLD AGEJ ADDRESS¬ 
ED TO TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS. TRANSLATED BY DR. 
franklin. 

[The author of the Moral lustra at or having forwarded a 
a copy of the second edition of it to the Honorable John 
Adams, late President of the United States, has received the 
following Letter from him, expressing a favorable opinion 
of the work, and suggesting improvements, by selections 
from the works of Cicero .J 


Montezillo, March 13th, 1820. 

Sir,—I thank you for your Moral Instructor. I have read the table of 
contents, and turned over the leaves, and have found nothing but such 
excellent maxims of wisdom and virtue which cannot be too plentifully 
scattered among the people, nor presented in too great a variety of forms. 
The compilation and composition of this work must have cost you much 
labor of research, and of thought, which merits well of the public. 
Among the multitude of philosophers and sages you have so judiciously 
quoted, I am sorry to observe that you have wholly omitted Cicero. At tire 
time when I received your pamphlet, I had just finished the reading of hrs 
Old Age,his Friendship, his letter to his brother Quintus, and his Dream 
of Scipio. It is impossible to read these with attention, and not learn to 
love our friends, our country, our species; the Universe,of which we area 
part, without adoring the Eternal Wisdom, Power, and Benevolence 
that produced and governs it. Cato, and Lelius, and Scipio, reason in 
such a manner as to make old age bless its existence The moral and po* 
laical philosophy taught by the great master in his Offices, las Tusculan 
and Academical Disputations, his Nature of the Gods, indeed in many 
parts of all his writings, would have furnished you with ample matenals, 
as rich and impressive as any you have collected. 

I am, hir, your obliged and obedient humble servant, 

Jesse Torrey. JOHN ADAMS. 


SECTION I. 

ESSENTIAL REQUISITES TO A HAPPY OLD AGE; A WELL SPENT , 
LIFE; PURSUIT OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE; VIRTUE; EXERCISE, 
AND TEMPERANCE; PURITY OF CONSCIENCE AND CONDUCT. 

1. The subject I have now chose to write on, is old age; 
which, as it is advancing on us both, and in a little dime must 
unavoidably seize us, 1 would look out ami endeavor to find 
the best and surest means, to make the burden of it sit as easy 
on us as possible. 



213 


. 2. I must own, the thoughts that flowed on me from the 
subject, in composing it, proved so entertaining and delight-' 

'* tul tome, while about it, that they have not only divested the 
!l prospect of old age, now before us, of every thing shocking 
or frightful, but they have rendered my expectations of it 

# even agreeable and comfortable. 

3. Which leads me to say, we can never sufficiently ad¬ 
mire the excellency of philosophy, to whose dictates whoever 
j submits, he will never find himself at a loss in any stage or 
,j condition of life, to render it not only supportable but easy. 

’ But on other philosophical subjects I have already wrote se¬ 
veral tracts, and shall continue to write. This on old age 
(as I said) comes to you. 

, 4. I choose for my speaker in it, old Marcus Cato; that the 

b respect paid to his name and character may give greater force 
v and authority to what is said. At his house 1 suppose Scipio 
i and Laelius to be met, expressing their wonder to the old man, 
how, with such ease and cheerfulness he could support the 
weight of his years: to which he fully answers them. And 
| thus they begin: 

SCIPIO. 

) 5. Our friend Lselius, and myself, Cato, greatly admiring 

* your wisdom and vast compass of knowledge in general, have 
5 been particularly wondering to see how very easily and cheer- 
I fully you bear your age; for we can't perceive that it gives 
, you any manner of trouble; while we have observed others 
r complaining of theirs, as if the burden were insupportable. 

CATO. 

6. Indeed, my friends, you place your wonder on a matter 
far below deserving it, a "business in which there is little ov 

i no difficulty at all; provided proper measures be taken in it. 
For know this, that those who have no aid or support within 
themselves, to render their lives easy, will find every state 
r l irksome: while such as are convinced, they must owe their 
happiness to themselves, and if they cannot find it in their 
own breast, they will never meet with it from abroad; will 
never consider anv thing as an evil, that is but a necessaiy ef- 
; feet of the established order of nature; which old age most. 

undoubtedly is. . . 

7. Tis certainly strange, that while all men hope they may 
live to attain it, any should find fault with it when it comes 








214 


to their share. * * * * But it was absolutely necessary, that 
some term, some period, should be set; and that, as it is with 
the fruits of trees, and of the earth, seasons should be allowed 
for their springing, growing, ripening, and at last to drop. 
This, wise men will submit to, and cheerfully bear. * * 

L^LIUS. 

8. But Cato, you would highly oblige us both, (for I may 
venture to speak for Scipio, as well as myself, since we both 
hope, or doubtless wish at least, to be old in our turn,) if you 
would-be pleased to instruct us beforehand, how, and by what 
methods, we may avoid the inconvenieneies that generally 
attend old age, so as to render it the more easy to us, when 
we reach it. 

CATO. 

9. With all my heart, Lrelius, in case you both desire it. 

SCIPIO. 

10. We both earnestly desire it, Cato, if not too trouble¬ 
some; for as you are now well advanced towards the end of a. 
long journey, which we are probably to travel after you, we 
Would gladly know of you, how you find it, in the stage you 
$re arrived at. 

V/ CATO. 

11. Well, I shall do my best to satisfy you. 1 have in¬ 
deed, been divers times in company with other old men, my 
equals, as you know the proverb, Birds of a feather will flock 
together; when they have been loud in their complaints of the 
inconvenieneies of old age; particularly Caius Salinator and 
Spurius Albinus, men of consular dignity; who used heavily 
to lament, that they had outlived all the enjoyments of life, 
for which it was worth the living; and that they found them¬ 
selves slighted and forsaken by those who had formerly fol¬ 
lowed them, and had treated them with the highest respect. 

12. But to me, such men appear to lay their charge entire¬ 
ly wrong; for if what they complained of were owing only to 
their years, the case must be the same with me, and all others 
of a like age: yet I have known several, who have lived to be 
very old, without complaining at all; for they appeared not 
only easy, but pleased at their being delivered from the ty¬ 
ranny of their youthful passions; and far from finding them¬ 
selves slighted, were still honored and revered by those about 
them. 




215 


13. Bat the true ground of such complaints Ties .wholly in 
Ihe mannet s of the men. for such as take care to he neither 
peevish, humorsome, nor passionate in old age, will find it. to¬ 
lerable enough; but a perverse temper, a fretful, or an inhu¬ 
mane disposition, will, wherever they prevail, render any state 
whatsoever, unhappy. 

LiE LIUS. 

14. That is very true, Cato, but may not some allege, it is 
your easy circumstances in life, with your power and dignity, 
that produce this happy effect,and render your old age in paV- 
ticular so easy; but these, you know, are articles that fall to 
but very few people’s share. 

CATO. 

15. I confess, Laelius, there may be something in what 

you say. * * * But the best armor against old age, Scipio 
and Lselius, is a well-spent life preceding it; a life employed 
in the pursuit of useful knowledge, in honorable actions, and 
the practice of virtue; in which, he who labors to improve 
himself from his youth, will in age reap the happiest fruits of 
them; not only because these never leave a man, not even in 
the extremes! old age; but because a conscience bearing wit¬ 
ness that our life was well spent, together with the remem¬ 
brance of past good actions, yields an unspeakable comfort 
to the soul. * * * *. 

i 

16. As the wise and good are in age delighted with the 
company of young people of sense and good inclinations, and 
nothing makes age sit lighter on them, than the regard and 
esteem of such; so all young people, who desire to recom¬ 
mend themselves to the world by a virtuous life and solid ac¬ 
complishments, must of course be pleased with the opportu¬ 
nity of improving themselves by the advice and information 

I of the most experienced: and thus I judge it is, that 1 observe 
you to be no less pleased with my conversation than 1 truly 
am with yours. * * *• * 

\7. For, what can be more honorable, what more desirable 
in life, than to see old men waited on by numbers of the 
young, making their court to them for their advice and in¬ 
struction. For none, certainly, will deny, that the aged are 
the best qualified for instructing of youth, and training them 
up in the knowledge, as well as animating them to the dis¬ 
charge of * very important duty in life. * * * * 






18. And I must ever think, that all those who spend their # 
time in improving others in knowledge, and teaching the no¬ 
bler arts, when their natural strength of body fails them, are ; 
entitled to our highest regard and esteem; though it is un- ( 
doubted ly true thateven this decay is oftener owing to some • 
unhappy courses and living too fast in youth, than to the na¬ 
tural effects of old age alone. 

19. Fora libidinous and intemperate life in youth, will un¬ 
avoidably deliver over the body languid and enervate to sue* , 
ceeding old age. * * * Constant exercise, with temperance, | 
will still preserve a competent share of our pristine vigor. 


SECTION II. 

i i 


MODERATION IN EXERCISE AND DIET:’LITERATURE AND SCIENCE: \ 

rural pursuits: mildness of temper: remembrance of ! 

PAST GOOD DEEDS: RESIGNATION TO THE LAWS OF NATURE. I 

1. But allowing it, that old people lose their strength, I j 
say again they do not want it. The laws, their administra¬ 
tion, the institutions and discipline of our ancestors, public J 
and private, are their proper business. 

2. We must prepare ourselves, my friends, against old age; \ j, 
and as it is advancing, endeavor by our diligence to mitigate 
and correct the natural infirmities that attend it: we must use 
proper preservatives as we do against diseases; great care * 
must, in the first place, be taken of our health; all bodily ex- ( 
ercise must be moderate, and especially our diet; which ought 
to be of such a kind, and in such proportion, as may refresh ! 
and strengthen nature, without oppressing it. 

S. Nor must our cares be confined to our bodies only: for 
the mind requires much more, which, without care will not s 
only decay, but our understanding will as certainly die away 1 
in old age, as a lamp not duly supplied with oil. The body,! 
w T e know, when over labored, becomes heavy, and, as it were,, 
jaded; buttis exercise alone that supports the spirits, and 
keeps the mind in vigor. * * * * 

4. If the mind has tne advantage of literature and science, 
and can by that means feed on, or divert itself with some 
nseful or amusing study, no condition can be imagined mpre 






217 

happy than such calm enjoyments, in the leisure and quiet of 
old age.* * * * * 

5. Upon all which let me ask you, what gratifications of 
sense, what voluptuous enjoyments in feasting, wine, hunting, 
or play, and the like, are to be compared with those noble en¬ 
joyments? Those pure and serene pleasures of the mind, the 
rational fruits of knowledge and learning, that grafted on a 

1 good natural disposition, cultivated by a liberal education, 
and trained up in prudence and virtue, are so far from being 
palled in old age, they rather continually improve, and grow 
on the possessor. 

6. Excellent, therefore, was that expression of Solon, when 
he said, that daily learning something, he grew old: for the 
pleasures arising from such a course, namely, those of the 
mind, must be allowed incomparably to excell all others. 

7. But I now come to speak of the pleasures of a country 

life, with which 1 am infinitely delighted. To these, old age is 
never an obstruction. It is the life of nature, and appears to 
me the exactest plan of that which a wise man ought to 
lead. Here our whole business is with the earth, the common 
parent of us all, which is never found refractory, never de¬ 
nies what is required of it, nor fails to return back what is 
committed to it with advantage, sometimes indeed with less, 
but generally with a very large interest. Nor is it the view 
of this increase only, which yields delight, but there arises 
yet a greater, from a contemplation of the powers of the 
earth, and vegetation. * * * * 

8. Old age, in a person graced with honors, is attended 
with such respect and authority, that the sense of this alone 
is preferable to all the pleasures youth can enjoy. Yet in all 
I have said, I desire to be understood to mean the old age of 
such persons only, as have in their youth laid solid founda¬ 
tions for esteem in advancing years; for on no other terms 
ought we to expect it. 

9. And hence it was, that what I once said in a public 
speech, met with such general applause, when I observed, 
that miserable was that man’s old age, who needed the help 
of oratory to defend him. Gray hairs and wrinkles avail no- 

* If the relish and advantage of science and literature as solacements 
to old age, were so highly appreciated by Cicero, in whose time printing 
presses and types were unknown, how can language express the encomi* 
unis those enjoyments are entitled to in the present age.— Comp. 

19 





218 


thing to confer the authority I am here speaking of: it must 
be a series of good actions, and nothing but a life honorably 
and virtuously led, through all the advancing steps of it, can 
crown old age with this blessed harvest of its past labors. 

10. Nor are those common marks of respect, though of but 
little moment in themselves, to be altogether slighted; such 
as morning salutations; to have the way or upper-hand giv¬ 
en; to be waited on home or from home, and to be consulted; 
which, both with us and in all well regulated states in pro¬ 
portion as they are more or less so, are more strictly observ¬ 
ed and practised. Lysander of Sparta, was wont to say, that 
Lacedemon was of all places, the most honorable sanctuary 
for old age. 

11. I find this also related, that a very old man coming in¬ 
to the theatre at Athens, to see a play, and the throng being 
so great that he could find no room nor seat among his 
own citizens, passing along that part where the embassadors 
of Lacedemon, then present, were placed; they all immedi¬ 
ately rose up to give him a seat. 

12. The Athenians observing this, clapped, and much ap¬ 
plauded the action; upon which one of the Spartans passed 
this just reflection, that the Athenians (he perceived) knew 
very well what was right, but they knew not how to do it. * * 
Hut it is said, people as they grow in years, become more 
peevish, morose, and passionate; and you may add covetous 
too; but as I have said, these are the faults of the men, and 
not of old age. 

13. Yet something of a little moroseness might probably, 
though not altogether justly be excused; for they may some¬ 
times be apt to think themselves slighted and played on; and 
further, a frail body can bear but little, and therefore will be the 
sooner offended. But all this may by proper application be 
prevented and remedied: for by reflection and a watchful 
guard kept on the motions of the heart, natural temper may 
be sweetened, and our conduct softened. A gravity with 
some severity is to be allowed; but by no means ill-nature. 

14. We now come to the fourth and last charge, which is 
thought most nearly to affect old age, and to give the greatest 
anxiety of all others, viz. the approach of death, which tis cer¬ 
tain can beat no great distance. * * * * The spring repre¬ 
sents youth, and shows what fruits may be expected ;°the fol¬ 
lowing seasons are for ripening and gathering in those fruits; 
and the best fruits of old age are, as I have repeatedly said, 




319 


the recollecting, and, as it were, feeding on the remembrance 
of that train and store of good and virtuous deeds, of which 
in the course of life, we lay in as a kind of provision for this 
season. 

15. But further, we are to consider, that as all we enjoy is 
from nature, whatever proceeds from, or is conform¬ 
able to the established laws of this, must in itself be good. 
Now can any thing be more agreeable to those laws, that) that 
people in old age should die, since more inconsistently with 
the order of nature, we find the same thing happens to youth, 
even in the prime of their years. 

16. But the difference is great; for young men seem to be 
forced from life, as fires are extinguished by great quantities 
of water thrown on them; when on the contrary, old men ex¬ 
pire of themselves, like a flame, when all its fuel is spent. 
And as unripe fruit requires some force to part it from its na¬ 
tive bough, but when come to its full maturity, it drops of it¬ 
self, without any hand to touch it; so young people die, by 
something violent or unnatural; but the old by mere ripe¬ 
ness. 

17. The thoughts of which to me are now become so agree¬ 
able, that the nearer I draw to my end, it seems like discover- 
ingthe land at sea, that, after the tossings of a tedious and 
stormy voyage, will yield me a safe and quiet harbor. * * * * 

18. We ought then to conclude, that as there is a succes¬ 

sion of pursuits and pleasures, in the several stages of life, 
the one dying aw'ay, as the other advances and takes place; 
so in the same manner are those of old ago to pass oft'in their 
turn. And when this satiety of life has fully ripened us, we 
are then quietly to lie down in death, as our last resting 
place, where ail anxiety ends, and eares and fears subsist no 
morel * * * * 

19. I am therefore far from being of the mind ofsome, and 
amongst them we have known men of good learning, who la¬ 
ment and bewail the condition of human life, as if it were a 
state of real misery; for 1 am not at all uneasy that I came 
into this world; because l have so lived in it, that 1 have rea¬ 
son to believe, 1 have been ofsome use to it; and when the 
close comes, 1 shall quit life as 1 would an inn, and not as a 
real home. For nature appears to me to have ordained this 
station here for us, as a place of sojournment, a transitory 
abode only, and not as a fixed settlement or permanent habi¬ 
tation. * * 





220 


20. Now, these my friends, are the means, (since it was J 
these you wanted to know) by which I make my old age sit 
easy and light on me; and thus I not only disarm it of every 
uneasiness, but render it even sweet and delightful. But if 

I should be mistaken in this belief, that our souls are im¬ 
mortal, I am however pleased and happy in my mistake; nor 
while I live, shall it ever be in the power of man to beat me 
out of an opinion, that yields me so solid a comfort, and so 
durable a satisfaction. 

21. And if, when dead, I should ( as some minute philoso¬ 
phers imagine,) be deprived of all further sense, I am safe at 
least in this, that those blades themselves will have no oppor¬ 
tunity beyond the grave to laugh at me for my opinion. 

22. But whether immortal or not, or whatever is to be our 
future state; as nature sets limits to all its other productions, 
it is certainly fit, our frail bodies should, at their proper sea¬ 
son, be gathered, or drop into the grave. 

■ ■ ■ 

CHAPTER 4. 

DIALOGUES BETWEEN PHILOCLES AND HORATIO, MEETING AC¬ 
CIDENTALLY IN THE FIELDS, CONCERNING VIRTUE AND PLEA¬ 
SURE. BY DR. BEN. FRANKLIN. 

SECTION I. 

REASONABLE SELF DENIAL, ECONOMY AND PRUDENCE, CON¬ 
TRASTED WITH UNRESTRAINED SENSUAL INDULGENCES, AS 
THE MEANS OF HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

Fhilocles. My friend, Horatio! I am very glad to see you; 
prithee how came such a man as you alone? and musing too? | 
What misfortune in your pleasures has sent you to philoso- jj 
phy for relief? j i 

Horatio. You guess very right, my dear Philocles: We j ( 
pleasure hunters are never without them; and yet so enchant- ( 
ing is the game, that we cannot quit the chase. How calm , 
and undisturbed is your lifeljhow free from present embar- ! 
rassments and future cares! I know you love me, and look j 
with compassion on my conduct: show me then the path 
which leads up to that constant and invariable good, which I 
have heard you so beautifully describe, and which you seem 
so fully to possess, 








221 


Phil, There are few men in the world I value more than 
von, Horatio! for amidst all your foibles, and painful pursuits 
of pleasure, I have oft observed in you an honest heart, and a 
mind strongly bent towards virtue. I wish from my soul I 
could assist you in acting steadily the part of a reasonable 
creature; tor, if you would not think it a paradox, I should 
tell you I love you better than you do yourself. 

Hor. A paradox indeed! better than I do myself! when I 
love my dear self so wel*, that I love every thing else for my 
own sake. 

Phil. He only loves himself well, who rightly and judici¬ 
ously loves himself. 

Hor . What do you mean by that, Philocles! you men of 
reason and virtue are always dealing in mysteries, though 
you laugh at them when the church makes them. I think he 
loves himself very well and very judiciously too, as you call 
it, who allows himself to do whatever he pleases. 

Phil. What, though it be the ruin and destruction of that 
very self which he loves so well! That man alone loves him¬ 
self rightly, who,procures the greatest possible good to him¬ 
self, through the whole of his existence; and so pursues plea¬ 
sure as not to give for it more than it is worth. 

Hor . That depends all upon opinion. Who shall judge 
what the pleasure is worth? Suppose that pleasure in gener¬ 
al is so favorite a mistress, that 1 will take her as men do their 
wives, for better, for worse; minding no consequences, nor 
regarding what is to come. Why should I not do it? 

Phil. Suppose, Horatio! that a friend of yours entered into 
the world, about two and twenty, with a healthful and vigor¬ 
ous body, and a fair plentiful estate of about five hundred 
pounds a year; and yet before he had reached thirty, should, 
by following his pleasures, and not, as you say, duly regard- 
1 ing consequences, have, run out of his estate, and disabled iiis 
I body to that degree, that he had neither the means nor capa¬ 
city of enjoyment left; what would you say to this man's con- 
I duct? fs it wrong by opinion or fancy only? Or is there really 
! a right and a wrong in the case? Is not one opinion of life 
| and action juster-than another? Or one sort of conduct pre- 
j ferable to another? Or, does that miserable son of pleasure, 
appear as reasonable and lovely a being in your eyes, as a 
; man who, by prudently and rightly gratifying his natural pas¬ 
sions, had preserved his body in lull health, and his estate 
entire, and enjoyed both to a good old age, and then uied 
* 19 





222 


with a thankful heart for the good things he had received, and 
with an entire submission to the will of him who first called 
him into being. Say,'Horatio! are these men equally wise and 
happy? And is every thing to be measured by mere fancy 
and opinion, without considering whether that fancy or opin¬ 
ion be right? 

Ilor. Hardly so, neither, T think; yet, sure the wise and 
good author of nature could never make us to plague us! 
He could never give us passions, on purpose to subdue and 
conquer them; nor produce this self of mine, or any other self, 
only that it may be denied; for, that is denying the works of 
the great Creator himself. Self-denial, then, which is what I 
suppose you mean by prudence, seems to me not only absurd, 
but very dishonorable to that supreme Wisdom and Good¬ 
ness which is supposed to make so contradictory a creature, 
that must be always fighting with himself in order to be at 
rest, and undergo voluntary hardships in order to be happy: 
Are we created sick only to be commanded to be sound? 
Are we born under one law, our passions, and yet bound to 
another, that of reason? Answer me, Philocles, for I am 
warmly concerned for the honor of nature, the mother of us 
all. 

Phil. I find, Horatio, my two characters have frightened you, 
so that you decline the trial of what is good, by reason; and 
had rather make a bold attack upon Providence, the usual w r ay 
of you gentlemen of fashion, who, w'hen, by living in defiance 
of the eternal rules of reason, you have plunged yourselves in¬ 
to a thousand difficulties, endeavor to make yourselves easy, 
by throwing the burden upon nature. You are, Horatio, in a 
very miserable condition indeed; for you say, you cannot be 
happy if you controul your passions; and you feel yourself mi¬ 
serable by an unrestrained gratification of them; so that here 
iy evil, irremediable evil either way. 

Hor. That is very true, at least it appears so to me. Pray, 
what have you to say, Philocles, in honor of Nature or Provid- I 
ence; methinks I am in pain for her. How do you rescue her? 

Phil. This, my dear Horatio, I have to say, that what you 
find fault with, and clamor against, as the most terrible evil 
in the world, self-denial, is really the greatest good, and the 
highest gratification: If indeed you use the word in the sense 
of some sour moralists, you wdl have just reason to laugh at 
it; but if you take it as understood by philosophers, and men 
of sense, you will presently see her charms, and fly to her 
embraces, notwithstanding her demure looks, as absolutely 




223 


necessary to produce even your own darling sole good, plea¬ 
sure: for, self-denial is a natural means of procuring more 
pleasure than you can taste without it, so that this grave saint 
like guide to happiness, as rough and dreadful as she has been 
made to appear, is in truth, the kindest and most beautiful 
mistress in the world. 

Ilor. Prithee, Philocles, do not wrap yourself in allegory 
and metaphor; why do you teaze me thus? I long to be sa¬ 
tisfied: what is this philosophical self-denial; the necessity 
and reason of it? I am impatient and all on fire: explain, 
therefore, in your beautiful, natural, easy way of reasoning, 
what 1 am to understand by this grave lady of yours, with so 
forbidding, down-cast looks, and yet so absolutely necessary 
to my pleasures, I stand ready to embrace her, for you know, 
pleasure I court under all shapes and forms. 

Fiiil. Attend then, and you shall see the reason of this phi¬ 
losophical self-denial. There can be no absolute perfection 
in any creature; because every creature is derived from some¬ 
thing of a superior existence, and dependent on that source 
for its own existence: no created being can be all wise, all¬ 
good, and all-powerful, because his powers ami capacities are 
finite and limited; consequently whatever is created must, in 
its own nature, be subject to error, irregularity, excess, and 
imperfectness. All intelligent rational agents, find in them¬ 
selves a power of judging what kind of beings they are; what 
actions are proper to preserve them; and what consequences 
will generally attend them; what pleasures they are form¬ 
ed for, and to what degree their natures are capable of re¬ 
ceiving them. All we have to do then, Horatio, is to con¬ 
sider, when we are surprised with a new object, and passion¬ 
ately desire to enjoy it, whether the gratifying that passion 
be consistent with the gratifying other passions and ap¬ 
petites equal, if not more necessary to us, and whether 
it consists with uui happiness to-morrow, next week, or 
next year, for, as we all wish to live, we are obliged, by reason, 
to take as much care for our future, as our present happiness, 
and not build one upon the ruins of the other: but, if through 
the strength and power of a present passion, and through 
want of attending to consequences, we have erred, and ex¬ 
ceeded the bounds which nature or reason have set us; we are 
then, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny ourselves a present 
momentary pleasure, fora future, constant, and durable one: 
so that this philosophical self-denial is only refusing to do an 
action, which you strongly desire; because it is inconsistent 



224 


with your health, convenience, or circumstances in the world: 
or in other words, because it costs you more than it was worth. 
You would lose by it as a man of pleasure. Thus you see, 
Horatio, that self-denial is not only the most reasonable, but 
the most pleasant thing in the world. 

liar. We are just coming into town, so that we cannot pur¬ 
sue this argument any farther at present; you have said a great 
deal for Nature, Providence and Reason: happy are they 
who cm follow such divine gui les. 

Phil. Horatio, good night; 1 wish you wise in your plea¬ 
sures. 

Nor. I wish, Philocles, I could be as wise in my pleasures, 
as you are pleasantly wise; your wisdom is agreeable; your 
virtue is amiable; and your philosophy the highest luxury. 
Adieu! thou enchanting reasoner. 


SECTION II. 

A SECOND DIALOGUE ON THE SAME SUBJECT. GOVERNMENT OF 
THE PASSIONS, AND DOING GOOD TO OTHERS, THE SUREST 
MEANS OF ATTAINING UNINTERRUPTED HAPPINESS. 

Philocles. Dear Horatio, where hast thou been these three 
pr four months? What new adventures have you fallen upon 
since I met you in these delightful all-inspiring fields, and 
wondered how such a pleasure-hunter as you could bear to be 
alone? 

Horatio . O Philocles! thou best of friends, because a friend 
to reason and virtue! 1 am very glad to see you: Do not you 
remember, I told you then, that some misfortunes in my plea¬ 
sures had sent me to philosophy for relief; but now I do as¬ 
sure you, I can, without a sigh, leave other pleasures for those 
of philosophy: I can hear the word reason mentioned, and vir¬ 
tue praised, without laughing: Do not I bid fair for conver¬ 
sion, think you? 

Phil. Very fair, Horatio, for I remember the time when 
reason, virtue, and pleasure, were the same thing with you; 
when you counted nothing good but what pleased, nor any 
thing reasonable but what you gained by; when you made a 
jest of a mind and the pleasures of reflection, and elegantly 
placed your sole happiness, like the rest of the animal cre¬ 
ation, in the gratification of sense. 

llor. 1 did so; but in our last conversation, when walking 





225 


(Upon the brow of this hill, and looking down on that broad* 
rapid river, and yon widely extended, beautifully varied 
plain, you taught me another doctrine: you showed me that 
self-denial, which above all things I abhorred, was really 
the greatest good and the highest gratification, and abso¬ 
lutely necessary to produce even my own darling, sole good, 
pleasure. 

Phil. True: I told you that reasonable self-denial was a 
natural means of procuring more pleasure than we could 
taste without it; that, as we all strongly desire to live, and 
to live only to enjoy, we should take as much care about our 
future as our present happiness, and not build one upon the 
ruins of the other; that we should look to the end, and regard 
consequences; and if, through want of attention, we had 
erred, and exceeded the bounds which nature had set us, we 
were then obliged, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny our¬ 
selves a present, momentary pleasure, for a future, constant, 
and durable good. 

Ilor. You have shown, Philocles, that self-denial, which 
weak or interested men have rendered the most forbidding, 
is really the most delightful and amiable, the most reason¬ 
able and pleasant thing in the world. In a word, if I un- 
, derstand you aright, self denial is, in truth, self-recognising, 
self-acknowledging, or self-owning. But now, my friend, 
you are to perform another promise, and show me the path 
which leads up to that constant„durable, and invariable good, 
which I have heard you so beautifully describe, and which 
you seem so fully to possess, is not this good of yours a 
mere chimera? Can any thing be constant in a world which 
is eternaiiy changing* and which appears to exist by an ever* 

! lasting revolution of one thing into another, and where every 
thing without us, and every thing within us, is in perpetual 
I motion? What is this constant, durable good, then, of yours? 

Phil. You seem enthusiastically warm, Iloratio. I will 
I wait till you are cool enough to attend to the sober, dispas¬ 
sionate voice of reason. 

Ilor. You mistake me, my dear Philocles, my warmth is 
not so great as to run away with my reason; it is only just 
raised enough to open my faculties, and fit them to receive 
those eternal truths, and that durable good, which you so 
triumphantly boast of. Begin, then, l am prepared. 

Phil. I will, I believe, Horatio, with all your scepticism 
about you; you will allow that good to be constant which is 




never absent from you, and that to be durable, which never 
ends but with your being. 

Hur. Yes; go on. 

Phil. That can never be the good of a creature which, i 
when present, the creature may be miserable, and when ab -1 
sent, is certainly so. 

Hor. I think not; but pray explain what you mean; for I 
am not much used to this abstract way of reasoning. 

Phil. I mean all the pleasures of sense. The good of 
man cannot consist in the mere pleasures of sense; because, 
when any one of those objects which you love is absent, or 
cannot be come at, you are certainly miserable; and if the; 
faculty be impaired, though the object be present, you can¬ 
not enjoy it. So that this sensual good depends upon a thou¬ 
sand things without and within you, and all out of your 
power. Can this, then, be the good of man? Say, Horatio, 
what think you, is not this a checquered, fleeting, fantastical 
good? Can that, in any propriety of speech, be called the j 
good of man, in which even, while he is tasting, he may be 
miserable, and in which, when he cannot taste, he is neces¬ 
sarily so? Can that be our good which costs us a great deal 
of pains to obtain, which cloys in. possessing, for whiclvwe j 
must wait the return of appetite before we can enjoy again? I 
Or, is that our good which we can come at without difficulty, j 
which is heightened by possession, which never ends in wea- i 
riness and disappointment, and which, the more we enjoy, the 
better qualified we are to enjoy on? 

ffor. The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus? 
Phiiocles, show me this good immediately. 

Phil. 1 have showed you what it is not; it is not sensual, 
but it is rational and moral good. It is doing all the good 
we can to others, by acts of humanity, friendship, generosity, 
and beneyolence: this is that constant and durable good, 
which will aftord contentment and satisfaction always alike, 
without variation or diminution. I speak to your experience 
now, Horatio: Hid you ever find yourself weary of relieving 
the miserable? Or of raising the distressed into life or hap¬ 
piness? Or rather, do not you find the pleasure grow upon 
you by repetition; and tiiat it is greater m reflection than in 
the act itself ? is there a pleasure upon earth to be compared 
with that which arises from the sense of making others hap# 
py? Can this pleasure ever he absent, or ever end but with 
your being? Does it not always accompany your Doth it put 




227 


lie clown and rise with you, live as longas'you live, give you 
consolation in the article of death, and remain with you in 
that gloomy hour, when all things are going to forsake you, 
or you them? 

Ifor. How glowingly you paint, Philocles! Methinks Ho¬ 
ratio is among the enthusiasts. I feel the passion; I am en- 
chantingly convinced; but I know not why: overborne by 
something stronger than reason: sure, some divinity speaks 
within me. But prithee, Philocles, give me coolly the cause 
why this rational and moral good so infinitely excels the 
mere natural or sensual. 

Phil . I think, Horatio, that I have clearly shown you the 
difference between the merely natural or sensual good, and 
rational or moral good. Natural or sensual pleasure con¬ 
tinues no longer than the action itself; but this divine or 
moral pleasure continues when the action is over, and swells 
and grows upon your hand by reflection: the one is incon¬ 
stant, unsatisfying, of short duration, and attended with 
numberless ills; the other is constant, yields full satisfaction, 
is durable, and no evils preceding, accompanying, or follow¬ 
ing it. But if you inquire farther into the cause of this dif¬ 
ference, and would know why the moral pleasures are greater 
than the sensual, perhaps the reason is the same as in all 
other creatures, that their happiness or chief good consists 
in acting up to their chief faculty, or that faculty which dis¬ 
tinguishes them from all creatures of a different species. The 
I chief faculty in man is his reason; and consequently, his'chief 
good; or, that which may justly be called his good, consists not 
merely in action, but in reasonable action. But in reason¬ 
able actions, we understand those actions, which are pre- 
| servative of the human kind; and naturally tend to produce 
\ real and unmixed happiness; and these actions, by way of 
distinction, we call actions morally good. 

| Hor. You speak very clearly, Plilocles, but, that no diffi- 
I culty may remain upon my mind, pray, tell me, what is the 
reafdifterence between natural good and evil, and moral good 
and evil; for I know several people who use the terms with¬ 
out ideas. 

Phil. That may be: the difference lies only in this, that na¬ 
tural good and evil, are pleasure and pain: moral good and 
evil, are pleasure or pain produced with intention and design. 
For, it is the intention only that makes the agent morally good 
or bad. 


.1 



228 


Hor. But may not a man, with a very good intention, do 
an evil action? 

Phil. Yes; but then he errs in his judgment, though his de¬ 
sign be good: if his error is invincible, or such as, all things 
considered, he could not help, lie is inculpable: but, if it arose 
from want of diligence in forming his judgment about the na¬ 
ture of human actions, he is immoral and culpable. 

Hor. I find then, that in order to please ourselves rightly, 
or to do good to others morally, we should take great care of 
our opinions. 

Phil. Nothing concerns you more; for as the happiness or 
real good of man consists in right action; and right action can¬ 
not be produced without right opinion; it behoves us, above all 
things in this world, to take care that our opinions of things 
be according to the nature of things. The foundation of all 
virtue and happiness is thinking rightly. He who sees an ac¬ 
tion is right, that is, naturally tending to good, and does it be¬ 
cause of that tendency, he only is a moral man; and he alone 
is capable of that constant, durable, and invariable good, 
which has been the subjec t of this conversation. 

Hor. How, my dear philosophical guide, shall I be able to 
know, and determine certainly, what is right and wrong in 
life? 

Phil. As easily as you distinguish a circle from a square, 
or light from darkness. Look, Horatio, into the sacred book 
of Nature; read your own nature, and view the relation which 
other men stand in to you, and you to them, and you will im¬ 
mediately see what constitutes human happiness, and conse¬ 
quently what is right. 

Hor. We are just coming into town, and can say no more 
at present. You are my good genius, Philocles, you have show¬ 
ed me what is good; you have redeemed me from the slavery 
and misery of folly and vice; and made me a free and happy 
being. 

Phil. Then am I the happiest man in the world; be you 
steady, Horatio, never depart from reason and virtue. 

Hor . Sooner will I lose my existence. Good night, Philo¬ 
cles. 

Phil . Adieu, dear Horatio! 




229 

CHAPTER 5. 


THE WAY TO WEALTH, AS POINTED OUT IN THE SAYINGS OF POOR- 

RICHARD;* PUBLISHED BY DR. FRANKLIN IN 1 757, AND IN HIS 

ESSAYS ON INDUSTRY AND ECONOMY. 

But for one end, one much neglected use, are riches worth your care: 

This noble end is, to show the virtues in their fairest light; 

To make humanity the minister of bounteous Providence, 

And teach the breast the generous luxury of doing good — Armstrong. 

SECTION I. 

industry: early rising: vigilance. 

COURTEOUS READER, 

1. I have heard, that nothing gives an author so great plea¬ 
sure,as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, 
then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I 
am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse, lately, where 
a great number of people were collected at an auction of 
merchant’s goods. 

2. The hour of the sale not being come, they were convers¬ 
ing on the badness of the times; and one of the company 
called to a plain, clean old man, with white locks, “Pray, fa¬ 
ther, Abraham, what think you of the times-? Will not these 
heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we be ever 
able to pay them? What would you advise us to do?” 

3. Father Abraham, stood up, and replied, “ If you would 
have my advice, I will give it you in short; “ for a word to 
the wise is enough,” as Poor Richard says. They joined in 
desiring him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, he 
proceeded as follows: 

4. “ Friends, says he, the taxes are, indeed, very heavy; and 
if those laid on by the government, were the only ones we had 
to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have 
many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We 
are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much 
by our pride, and four times as much Oy our folly; and from 
these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by 
allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good 
advice, and something may be done lor us; “ God helps them 
that helps themselves,” as Poor Richard says. 

* Seepage 209. 


20 



230 


5 . “ Lt would be thought a hard government that should 
tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in 
its service: but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, 
by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. “Sloth, 
like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while the used I 
key is always bright,” as Poor Richard says. 

6. “ But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, fop 
that is the stuff life is made of,” as Poor Richard says. How i 
much more than is necessary do we.spend in sleep? forget¬ 
ting that‘‘The sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there 
will be sleeping enough in the grave,” as Poor Richard says. 

7. “If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time 
must be,” as Poor Richard says, “the greatest prodigality;” 
since, as he elsewhere tells us, “Lost time is never found 
again; and what we call time enough always proves little 
enough:” Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the pur¬ 
pose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. 

8. “Sloth makes ail things diflicult, but industn all easy: 
and, he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce 
overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slow¬ 
ly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let || 
not that drive thee; and early to bed and early to rise, makes 
a man healthy, wealthy and wise,” as Poor Richard says. 

9. “ So that what signifies wishing and hoping for better 
times? We may make these times better if we bestir our¬ 
selves. “Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon 
hope will die fasting. There are no gains without pains: 
then, help hands for 1 have no lands,” or if I have they are 
smartly taxed. “ He that hath a trade, hath an estate; and 
lie that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honor,” as 
Poor Richard says; but then the trade must be worked at, 
and the calling well followed, or neither tiie estate nor the 
office w ill enable us to pay our taxes. 

10. “If we are industrious, we will never starve; for at the 
working man’s house, hunger looks in, but dares not enter.’ > 
Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for “ industry pays 
debts, while despair increaseth them.” What, though you 
have found rio treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a 
legacy, “ Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives 
ail things to industry. 

11. “ Then plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you 
shall have corn to sell and to keep.” Work while it is call¬ 
ed to-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered 


231 


to-morrowR “ One to-day is worth two to-morrows,” as Poor 
Richard says; and farther,** never leave that till to-morrow, 
which vou can do to-day.” 

12. If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that 
a good master should catch you idle? Are you then your own 
master? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so 
much to be done for yourself,your family,your relations,and 
your country. 

13. Handle your tools without mittens: remember, that 
ft The cat in gloves catches no mice,” as Poor Richard says. 
It is true, there is much to be done, and, perhaps, you are 
weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great 
effects; for ** constant dropping wears away stones; and by 
diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable; and 
little strokes fell great oaks.” 

14. “ Methinks I Rear some of you say,** must a man afford 
himself no leisure?” I will tell thee my friend what Poor 
Richard says; “Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to 
gain leisure; and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw' 
not away an hour.” Leisure is time for doing somethinguse- 
ful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy 
man never; for, “ a life of leisure and a life of laziness are 
two things.” 

15. “ Many, without labor, would live by their wits only, 
but they break for w'ant of stock;” whereas industry gives 
comfort, and plenty, and respect. “Fly pleasures, and they 
will follow you. The diligent spinner has plenty of clothes; 
and now 1 have a sheep and a cow, every body bids me good- 
morrow.” 

lb. “But with our industry, we must likewise be stea¬ 
dy, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our 
own eyes, and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Rich¬ 
ard says, 

“ I never saw an oft-removed tree. 

Nor yet an oft-removed family, 

That throve so well as those that settled be.” 

IT. And again, ** three removes is as bad as a fire;” and 
again,“ keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;” and 
again, “ if you would have your business done, go; if not, 
seno.” Ami again, 

“ He that by the plough would thrive, 
liinmcif must either hold or drive.” 


18. An»l again, “ the eye of a master will do more work 
than both his hands;” and again, “ want of care docs us more 
damage than want of knowledge; and again, ,* not to oversee 
workmen, is to leave them your purse open/’ Trusting too 
much to other’s care is the ruin of many; for, “ If you would 
have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve your¬ 
self. 

19. A little neglect may breed great mischief; for want of 
a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; 
and for want of a horse the rider was lost;” being overtaken 
and slain by the enemy; all for want of a little care about a 
horse-shoe nail. 

SECTION II. 

if RUGA LIT Y: CALAMITIES OF PRIDE, EXTRAVAGANCE AND DEBTS. 

1. “ So much for industry my friends, and attention to 
one’s own business, but to these we must add frugality, if we 
would make our industry more certainly successful. A man 
may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, ** keep his nose 
all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last. 

2. A fat kitchen makes a lean will;” and 

“ Many estates are spent in the getting. 

Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting. 
And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.” 

“ If you would be wealthy, think of saving, as well as of get¬ 
ting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her out¬ 
goes are greater than her incomes.” 

3. “ Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will 
not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy 
taxes, and chargeable families; and farther, “ what maintains 
one vice, would bring up two children.” 

4. “ You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little 
punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little 
liner, and a little entertainment now and then, can be no great 
matter; but remember many a little makes a mickle.” 

5. Beware of little expenses; “ a small leak will sink a great 
ship,” as Poor Richard says; and again, “ who dainties love, 
shall beggars prove!” and moreover,“ fools make feasts, and 
wise men eat them.” Here you are all got together to this 
sale of fineries and nick-nacks. You call them goods; but if 
'you do not take care, they wfill prove evils to some of you*. 



6. You expect they will be sold cheap, and, perhaps, they 
may for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for 
them, they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor 
Richard says, “ Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long 
thou shalt sell thy necessaries.” And again, “ At a great 
pennyworth pause a while:” he means, that perhaps the 
cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or the bargain, by 
straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm 
than good. 

7. For in another place he says, “ Many have been ruined 
by buying good pennyworths.” Again, “ It is foolish to lay 
out money in a purchase of repentance;” and yet this folly 
is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the 
Almanac. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, has 
gone with a hungry belly, and half starved their families; 
“ Silks and sattins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen 
fire,” as Poor Richard says. 

8. These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely 
be called the conveniences: and yet only because they look 
pretty, how many want to have them? By these and other 
extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and 
forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but 
who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their 
standing; in which case it appears plainly, that a ploughman 
on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees,” as Poor 
Richard says. 

9. Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which, 
they knew not the getting of: they think “ It is day and will 
never be night:” that a little to be spent out ot so much is 
not worth minding; but always taking out of the meal-tub, 
and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom,” as Poor 
Richard says; and then, “ When the well is dry, they know 
the Worth of water.” 

10. But this they might have known before, if they had 
taken his advice. “ If you would know the value of money, 
go and try to borrow some; for he that goes a borrowing 
goes a sorrowing,” as Poor Richard says; and, indeed, so 
does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it 
again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says, 

“ Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse; 

Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.” 

11. And again, “Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and 
a great deal more saucy.” When you have bought one fine 

* 20 


234 


filing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may 
be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, “ It is easier to sup¬ 
press the first desire, than to satisfy all that follow it:” And i 
it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the 
frog to swell in order to equal the ox. 

“Vessels large may venture more, 

But little boats should keep near shore.” 

12. It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as Poor 
Richard says, “ Pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt; 
Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and 
supped with Infamy.” And, after all, of what use is this 
pride of appearance for which so much is risked, so much is 
suffered? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain; it makes 
no increase of merit in the person, it creates envy, it hastens 
misfortune. 

IS. “ But what madness must it be to run in debt for these 
superfluities! We are offered, by the terms of this sale, six 
months credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to 
attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and 
hope now to be fine without it. But, ah! think what you do 
when you run in debt; you give to another power over your 
liberty. 

14. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to 
&ec your creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; 
you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and, by de¬ 
grees, come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, down¬ 
right lying; for, “ The second vice is lying, the first is run¬ 
ning in debt,” as Poor Richard says; and again, to the same 
purpose, “ Lying rides upon Debt’s back:” whereas a free 
American ought not to be ashamed, nor afraid to speak to 
any man living. 

15. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and vir¬ 
tue. “ It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.” What 
would you think of that nation, or of that government, who> 
should issue an edict, compelling you to dress like a gentle¬ 
man or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? 
AVould you not say, that you were free, have a right to dres^\ i 
as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of 
vour privileges, and such a government tyrannical? 

16. And yet you are about to put yourself under that ty¬ 
ranny when you run in debt for such a dress! Your creditor 
has authority to deprive you of your liberty, by confining 





235 


you in jail, if you should not be able to pay him: when you 
have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of pay¬ 
ment; but, as Poor Richard says, “ Creditors have better 
memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, 
great observers of set days and times.” 

17. The day comes round before you are aware, and the 
demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if 
you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed 
so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short: Time will 
seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoul¬ 
ders. At present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriv¬ 
ing circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance 
without injury; but, 

“ For age and want save while you may. 

No morning sun lasts a whole day.” 

18. Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while 
you live, expense is constant and certain; and, “ It is easier 
to build two chimneys, than to keep one in fuel,” as Poor- 
Richard says: So, 

“ Get what you can, and what you get hold, 

’Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.”' 

And when you have got the philosopher’s stone, sure you 
will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of pay¬ 
ing taxes. 

<9. “ This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom: but, 
after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry 
and frugality, and prudence, though excellent things; for 
they may all be blasted without the blessing of Heaven; and 
therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable 
to those that at present seem to want it,*but comfort and help 
them. Remember, Job suffered, and was afterwards pros¬ 
perous. 

20. And now to conclude, “Experience keeps a dear 
school, but fools will learn in no other,” as Poor Richard says, 
and scarce in that; for, it is true, “We may give advice, but 
we cannot give conduct:” However, remember this, “ They 
that will not be counselled cannot be helped;” and farther, 
that “If you will not hear Reason, she will surely rap your 
knuckles,” as Poor Richard says.” 

21. Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The 
people heard it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately 


practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common ser¬ 
mon; for the auction opened, and they began to buy extrava¬ 
gantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my 
Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped on those topics dur¬ 
ing the course of twenty-five years. 

22. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired 
any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with 
it, though I was conscious, that not a tenth part of the wis¬ 
dom was my own, which he ascribed to me; but rather the 
gleanings that I had made of the sense of all ages and na¬ 
tions. However, 1 resolved to be the better for the echo of it; 
and, though at first 1 had determined to buy stuff for a new 
coat, I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer. 
Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as 
mine, I am, as ever, thine to serve thee. 

RICHARD SAUNDERS, 


SECTION III. 

ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN. 

[Written 1748.] 

To my Friend Jl. B. 

As you have desired it of me, I write the following hints, which have 
been of service to me, and may, if observed, be so to you. 

1. Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten 
shillings a day by his labor, and goes abroad, or sits idle one 
half of that day, though he spends but sixpence during his 
diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only ex¬ 
pense; he has really spent, or rather thrown away, five shill¬ 
ings besides. 

2. Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his 
money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the inter¬ 
est, or so much as l can make of it during that time. This 
amounts to a considerable sum when a man has good and 
large credit, and makes good use of it. 

3. Remember that money is oi a prolific generating nature. 
Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, 
and so on. Five shillings turned is six; turned a<min it is se¬ 
ven and three pence; and so on till it becomes an hundred 
pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces, every 
turning, so that the profits rise quicker and quicker. He 
that kills a breeding sow, destroys all her offspring to the 






237 


thousandth generation. He that murders a crown, destroys 
all that it might have produced, even scores of pounds. 

' 4. Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. 
For this little sum, which may be daily wasted either in time 
or expense, unperceived, a man of credit may, on his own se¬ 
curity, have the constant possession and use of an hundred 
pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious 
man, produces great advantage. 

5. Remember this saying, “ the good paymaster is Lord of 
another man’s purse.” "He that is known to pay punctually 
and exactly to the time he promises, may at any time, and on 
any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This 
is sometimes of great use. After industry and frugality, no¬ 
thing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the 
world, than punctuality and justice in all his dealings: there¬ 
fore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time 
you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend’s 
purse for ever. 

6. The most trifling actions that affect a man’s credit are 
to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the 
morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him 
easy six months longer; but if he sees you at a billiard table, 
or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, 
he sends for his money the next day; demands it before he 
can receive it in a lump. It shows, besides, that you are mind¬ 
ful of what you owe; it makes you appear a careful, as well 
as honest man, and that still increases your credit. 

7. Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and 
of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who 
have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account 
for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If 
you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have 
this good effect; you will discover how wonderfully small 
trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern, 
what might have been, and may for the future, be saved, with¬ 
out occasioning any great inconvenince. 

8. In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain 
as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, in¬ 
dustry and frugality; that is, waste neither time nor money , 
but make the best use of both. Without industry and fru¬ 
gality nothing will do, and with them every thing. He that 
gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets (necessary ex- 





238 


penses excepted) will certainly become rich; if that Being 
who governs the world, to whom all should look for a bless-* 
ing on their honest endeavois, doth not, in his wise provid¬ 
ence otherwise determine. 


SECTION IV. 

I 

THE WAY TO MAKE MONEY PLENTY IN EVERY MAN’S rOCKET* 

1. At this time, when the general complaint is that “ money 
is scarce,” it will be an act of kindness to inform the money¬ 
less how they may reinforce their pockets. I will acquaint 
them with the true secret of money-catching, the certain way ' 
to fill empty purses, and how to keep them always full Two 
simple rules, well observed, will do the business. First, Let 
honesty and industry be thy constant companions; and, Se¬ 
condly, Spend one penny less than thy clear gains. 

2. Then shall thy hide-bound pocket soon begin to thrive, 
and will never again cry with the e>5pty belly-ache: neither 
will creditors insult thee, nor want oppress, nor hunger bite, 
nor nakedness freeze thee. The whole hemisphere will shine 
brighter, and pleasure spring up in every corner of the heart* 
Now, therefore, embrace these rules and be happy. 13anish 
the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, and live independ¬ 
ent. 

3. Then shalt thou be a man, and not hide thy face at the 
approach of the rich, nor suffer the pain of feeling little when 
the sons of fortune walk at thy right hand: for independen¬ 
cy, whether with little or much, is good fortune, and placeth 
thee on even ground with the proudest of the golden lleece. 
Oh, then, be wise, and let industry walk with thee in the morn¬ 
ing, and attend thee until thou readiest the evening hour for 
rest. 

4. Let honesty be as the breath of thy soul, and never for¬ 
get to have a penny, when ali thy expenses are enumerated 
and paid; then shalt thou reach the point of happiness, and in¬ 
dependence shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and 
crown; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor stoop to the silk¬ 
en wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse because 
the hand whiui otters it, wears a ring set with diamonds. 




239 

CHAPTER 6. 


detached selections from the moral essays and let¬ 
ters OF DR. FRANKLIN. 

SECTION I. 

i# 

THE HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG! SHOWING THE UNHAPPI¬ 
NESS OF A FAULT-FINDING DISPOSITION. 

1. There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with 
equal degrees of health and wealth in the world, and the other 
comforts of life, become the one happy, and the other miser¬ 
able. This arises very much from the different views in 
which they consider things, persons, and events; and the ef¬ 
fect of those different views upon their own mines. 

2. In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find 
conveniences and inconveniences; in whatever company, 
they may find persons and conversation more or less pleas¬ 
ing; at whatever table, they may meet with meats and drinks 
of better and worse taste, dishes better and worse dressed: in 
whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather: under 
whatever government, they may find good and bad laws, and 
good and bad administration of those laws: in whatever poem, 
or work of genius, they may see faults and beauties: in al¬ 
most every face, and every person, they may discover fine 
features and defects, good and bad qualities. 

3. Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people 
above mentioned, fix their attention, those who are disposed 
to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts 
of conversation, the^well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the 
wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerfulness. 
Those who are t0 unhappy, think and speak only of the 
contraries. Hence they are continually discontented them¬ 
selves, and by their remark, sour the pleasures of society; of¬ 
fend personally many people, and make themselves every 
where disagreeable. 

4. If this turn ot mind was founded in nature, such unhap¬ 
py persons would be the more to be pitied. But as the dispo¬ 
sition to criticise, and to be disgusted, is perhaps, taken up 
originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, 
winch, though at present strong, may nevertheless be cured, 
when those who have it are convinced of its bad effects on their 
felicity; I hope this little admonition may be of service to 






240 


them, anil put them on changing a habit, which, though in the 
exe*<;i$e it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet lias serious 
consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and misfor¬ 
tunes. 

5. For, as many are offended by, and nobody loves this sort 
of people; no one shows them more than the most common j 
civility and respect, and scarcely that; and this frequently 
puts tnem out of humor, and draws them into disputes and 
contentions. If they aim at obtaining some advantage in 
rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will stir a 
step, or speak a word to favor their pretensions. 

6. If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will de¬ 
fend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, j 
and render them completely odious: If these people will not 
change this bad habit, and condescend to be pleased with what 
is pleasing, without fretting themselves and others about the b 
contraries, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with « 
them; which is always disagreeable, and sometimes very in-M 
convenient, especially when one finds one’s self entangled in |1 
their quarrels. 

7. An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from ex- ( 
perience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoid- 1 
ed any intimacy with such people. He had, like other philo- ; 
sophers, a thermometer to show him the heat of the weather; < 
and a barometer, to mark when it was likely to prove good or 
bad; but there being no instrument invented to discover,at first ! 
sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for that pur- f 
pose, made use of his legs; one of which w as remarkably band- * 
some, the other, by some accident, crooked and deformed. 1 
If a stranger, at the first interview, regarded his ugly k g' r 
more than his handsome one, he doubted him. 

8. If he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg, > 
that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no r 
further acquaintance with him. Every body has not this two 
legged instrument; but every one, with a little attention, may j n 
observe signs of that carping, fault-finding disposition, and d 
take the same resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those ;* 
infected with it. 1 therefore advise those critical, querulous, f 
discontented, unhappy people, that if the) wish to he respect- r 
ed and beloved by others, and happy in themselves, they 
should leave off looking at the ugly leg. 


241 

SECTION II. 


THE ART OF PROCURING PLEASANT DREAMS, INSCRIBED TO 
MISS '***, BEING WRITTEN AT HER REQUEST. 

1. As a great part of our life is spent in sleep, during 
which we nave sometimes pleasing and sometimes paiTiful 
dreams, it becomes of some consequence to obtain the one 
kind, and avoid the other; for, whether real or imaginary, 
pain is pain, and pleasure is pleasure. If we can sleep with¬ 
out dreaming, it is well that painful dreams are avoided. If, 
while we sleep, we can have any pleasing dreams, it is as the 
French say, tant gagne , so much added to the pleasure of 
life. 

2. To this end it is, in the first place, necessary to be care¬ 
ful in preserving health, by due exercise and great temper¬ 
ance; for, in sickness, the imagination is disturbed; and dis¬ 
agreeable, sometimes terrible, ideas are apt to present them¬ 
selves. Exercise should precede meals, not immediately fol¬ 
low them; the first promotes, the latter, unless moderate, ob¬ 
structs^ digestion. If, after exercise, we feed sparingly, the 
digestion will be easy and good, the body lightsome, the tem¬ 
per cheerful, and all the animal functions performed agree¬ 
ably. Sleep, when it follows, will be natural and undisturb¬ 
ed. 

3. While indolence, with full feeding, occasion nightmares 
and horrors inexpressible: we tall from precipices, are assault¬ 
ed by wild beasts, murderers and demons, and experience 
every variety of distress. Observe, however, that the quanti¬ 
ties of food and exercise are relative things: those who move 
much, may, and indeed ought to eat more; those who use lit¬ 
tle exercise, should eat little. In general, mankind, since the 
improvement of cookery, eat about twice as much as nature 
requires. 

4. Suppers are not bad, if we have not dined; but restless 
nights naturally follow hearty suppers, after full dinners. In¬ 
deed, as there is a difference in constitutions, some rest well 
after these meals; it costs them only a frightful dream, and an 
apoplexy, after which they sleep till doomsday. Nothing is 
more common in the newspapers, than instances of people, 

21 









242 

■who, after eating a hearty supper, are found dead a-bed in the 
morning.* 

5. Another means of preserving health, to be attended to, | 
is the having a constant supply of fresh air in your bed cham¬ 
ber. It has been a great mistake, the sleeping in rooms ex- f 
actly closed, and in beds surrounded by curtains. No out¬ 
ward air, that may cotne unto you, is so unwholesome as the ) 
unchanged air, often breathed, of a close chamber. As boil- t 
ing water does not grow hotter by longer boiling, if the parti¬ 
cles that receive greater heat can escape; so living bodies do 
not putrefy, if the particles as fast as they become putrid, can 
be thrown off. 

6. Nature expels them by the pores of the skin and lungs, ; 
and in a free open air, they are carried off; but in a close , 
room, we receive them again and again, though they become { 
more and more corrupt! A number of persons crowded in- j 
to a small room, thus spoil the air in a few minutes, and even 
render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcutta. A single 
person is said to spoil only a gallon of air per minute, and , 
therefore requires a longer time to spoil a chamber full; but 

it is done, however, in proportion, and many putrid disorders ft 
hence have their origin. 

7. Physicians, after having for ages contended that the sick 
should not be indulged with fresh air, have at length discov¬ 
ered that it may do them good. It is therefore to be hoped, J 
that they may in time discover, likewise, that it is not hurtful 
to those who are in health; and that we may be then cured 
<of the aerophobia , that at present distresses weak minds, and 
makesthem choose to be stifled and poisoned,-rather than leave 
open the w indows of a bed-chamber, or put down the glass 
of a coach. 

% ** if* ■ - * v . • ■ i 

* The use of animal food ought be avoided as much as possible for «up- 1 
pers, not only to prevent rug&ttnares and laborious dreams, but also for the i 
preservation of health. ] 

j- The air of rooms, in which several persons are breathing and perspiring, I 
dught to be frequently renewed. 

-- . . .... , It is not air, 

That from a thousand lungs, reeks back to thine. 

Sated with exhalations fell and sad.”— Armstrong. 

Close iron stoves emit a noxious effluvia, and are very pernicions to health' 
in close rooms. If iron stoves, therefore, must be used, they ought to be the 
genuine Franklin stoves, which admit a perpetual current of tresh air into 
the room,—churches, school-houses, and all buildings occupied by many per¬ 
sons, ought to be furnished with perpetual ventilators.— Comp . 










213 


8. Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter,* 
will not receive more; and that matter must remain in our 
bodies, and occasion diseases: hut it gives some previous no¬ 
tice of its being about to be hurtful, bv producing certain un¬ 
easinesses, slight indeed, at first, such as, with regard to the 
lungs, is a trifling sensation, and to the pores of the skin a 
kind of restlessness which is difficult to describe, and few 
that feel it know the cause of it. 

9. The remedies, preventive and curative, follow: 1st. 
By eating moderately (as before advised for health’s sake) 
less perspirable matter is produced in a given time; hence 
the bed-clothes receive it longer, before they are saturated; 
and we may, therefore, sleep longer, before we are made un¬ 
easy by their refusing to receive any more. 2d. By using 
thinner and more porous bed-clothes, which will suffer the 
perspirable matter more easily to pass through them, we are 
less incommoded, such being longer tolerable. 

10. These are the rules of the art. But though they will 
generally prove effectual in producing the end intended, there 
is a case in which the most punctual observance of them will 
be totally fruitless. I need not mention the case to you, my 
dear friend: but my account of the art would be imperfect 
without it. The case is, when the person who desires to have 
pleasant dreams has not taken care to preserve, what is ne¬ 
cessary above all things, 

A GOOD CONSCIENCP* 


SECTION III. 

THE WASTE OF LIFE. 

1. Anergus was a gentleman of a good estate; he was bred 
to no business, and could not contrive bow to waste his 
hours agreeably; he had no relish for the proper works of 
life, nor any taste at all for the improvements of the mind; 
he spent generally ten hours of the four, and twenty in his 
bed; he dosed away tw r o or three more on his couch, and as 
many w'ere dissolved in good liquor every evening, it he met 
with company of his own humor. 

2. Five or six of the rest he sauntered away with much in- 

* What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that vapor which passes 
off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores ol the skin. Tfie 
quantity ol'this is said to he five-eighths of what we e?»t. 






244 


do*ence; the chief business of them was to contrive his meals, 
and to feed his fancy before-hand with the promise of a din-' 
ner or supper; not that he was so very a glutton, or so en¬ 
tirely devoted to appetite, but chiefly because he knew not 
how to employ his thoughts better, he let them rove about 
the sustenance of his body. 

3. Thus he had made a shift to wear off ten years, since 
the paternal estate fell into his hands: and yet, according 
to the abuse of words in our day, he was called a man of vir¬ 
tue, because he was scarce ever known to be quite drunk. 

4. One evening, as he was musing alone, his thoughts hap¬ 
pened to take a most unusual turn; for they cast a glance 
backward, and began to reflect on his manner of life. He 
bethought himself what a number of living beings had been 
made a sacrifice of to support his carcase, and how much 
corn and wine had been mingled with those offerings. He 
had not quite lost all the arithmetic that he learned when 
he was a boy, and he set himself to compute what he had 
devoured since he came to the age of man. 

„ 5. “ About a dozen feathered creatures, small and great, 
have, one week with another, (said he,) given up their live& 
to prolong mine, which, in ten years, amounts to at least 
six thousand. Fifty sheep have been sacrificed in a year, 
with half a hecatomb of black cattle, that I might have the 
choicest part offered weekly upon my table. Thus a thou¬ 
sand beasts, out of the flock and the herd, have been slain 
in ten years to feed me, besides what the forest has supplied 
me with. 

6. “ Many hundreds of fishes have, in all their varieties, 
been robbed of life for my repast, and of the smaller fry as 
many thousands. A measure of corn would hardly afford 
fine flour enough for a month’s provision, and this arises to 
above six score bushels; and many hogsheads of oil and wine, 
and other liquors, have passed through this body of mine, 
this wretched strainer of meat and drink. 

7. “ And what have I done all this time for God or man? 
What a vast profusion of good things upon an useless life, 
and a worthless liver? O shameful waste of life and time!” 

8. In short, he carried his moral reflections with so just 
and severe a force of reason, as constrained him to change 
his whole course of life, to break oft' his follies at once, and 
to apply himself to gain some useful knowledge, when he 
was mope than thirty years of age; he lived many following' 


245 


roars, with the character of a worthy inan and an excellent 
Christian; he performed the kind offices of a good neighbor 
at home, and made a shining figure as a patriot in the senate- 
house; he died with a peaceful conscience, and the tears of his 
country were dropped upon his tomb. 

9. But this was a single instance; and we may almost ven¬ 
ture to write miracle upon it. Are there not numbers of both 
sexes among our young gentry, in this degenerate age, whose 
lives thus run to utter waste, without the least tendency to 
usefulness? When I meet with persons of such a worthless 
character as this, it brings to my mind some scraps of Horace: 

Nos numerus sumus, & fruges consumere nati. 

* * * * * Alcinioque Juventus 

Cui pulchrum fuit in Medios dormire dies, &.C. 

PARAPHRASE. 

10. There are a number of us creep 
Into this world, to eat and sleep; 

And know no reason why they’re born"; 

But merely to consume the corn, 

Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish. 

And leave behind an empty dish: 

Tho’ crows and ravens do the same. 

Unlucky birds of hateful name; 

Ravens or crows might fill their places; 

And swallow corn and carcasses. 

Then, if their tombstone when they die, 

Ben’t taught to flatter and to lie, 

There’s nothing better will be said 
Than that they’ve eat up all their bread, 

Drank up all their drink and gone to bed. 


SECTION IV. 

TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ. 

ON LUXURY, IDLENESS AND INDUSTRY. 

1. If there be a nation that exports its beef and linen to 
pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a great 
part of its people live upon potatoes, and wear no shirts, 
wherein does it differ from the sot, who lets his family starve, 
and sells his clothes to buy drink? Our American commerce 
is, I confess, a little in this way. We sell our victuals to the 
* 21 









246 

Islands for rum and sugar; the substantial necessaries of’ life 
for superfluities. * 

2. Foreign luxuries, and needless manufactures, imported 
and used in a nation, increase the people of the nation that 
furnishes them, and diminish the people of the nation that 
use them. Laws, therefore, that prevent such importations, 
and, on the contrary, promote the exportation of manufac¬ 
tures to be consumed in foreign countries, increase the wealth, 
population, and means of subsistence of the people that make 
them, and pioduce the contrary effect upon their neighbors. 

3. It has been computed by some political arithmetician, 
that if every man and woman would work for four hours each\ 
day-on something useful, that labor would produce sufficient 
to procure all the necessaries and comforts of life, want and 
misery would be banished out of the world, and the rest of the 
twenty-four hours might be leisure and pleasure. 

4. What occasions then so much want and misery? It is 
tl e employment of men and women in works that produce 
neither the necessaries nor conveniences of life, who, with 
those who do nothing, consume necessaries raised by the la¬ 
borious. To explain tiiis, 

5. 'Idie first elements of wealth are obtained by labor, 
from the earth and waters. I have land and can raise corn. 
With this, if I feed a family that does nothing, my corn will 
be consumed, and at the end of the year I shall be no richer 
than I was at the beginning. But, if while I feed them, I em¬ 
ploy them, some in spinning, others in making bricks, &c. for 
building, the value of my corn will be arrested, and remain 
with me, and at the end of the year we may all be better 
clothed and better lodged. 

6. And if instead of employing a man I feed in making 
bricks, I employ him in fiddling for me, the corn lie eats is 
gone, and no part of his manufacture remains to augment 
the wealth and convenience of the family. Look round the 
world and see the millions employed in doing nothing, or 
something that amounts to nothing, when the necessaries and 
conveniences of life are in question. 

7. A question may be asked; Could all these people now 
employed in raising, making, or carrying superfluities, be 
subsisted by raising necessaries? I think they might. The 
world is large, and a great part uncultivated. Many hun¬ 
dred millions of acres in Asia, Africa, and America, are still 
in a forest, and a great deal even in Europe. On a hundred 
acres of tl is forest, a man might become a substantial farmer. 





« 8. One reflection more and I will end this long rambling 

letter. Almost ail parts of our bodies require some expense. 
I The feet demand shoes; the legs stockings; the rest of the 
t bod y clothing; and the stomach a good deal of victuals. Our 
M eyes, though exceedingly useful, ask, when reasonable, only 
, the cheap assistance of spectacles, which could not much im- 
• pair our finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes 
» that ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should want 
i neither fine clothes, fine houses, nor fine furniture. 


t 


SECTION V. 

GEORGE WHITE FI ELD.* 


Sir, Philadelphia , June 6, 1753. 

1. 1 received your kind letter of the 2d instant, and am 
I glad to-hear that you increase in strength; I hope you will con- 

? tii ue mending, tiil you recover your former health and firm¬ 
ness. Let me know whether you still use the cold bath,and 
what effect it has. 

2. As to the kindness you mention, I wish it could have 
1 been of more service to you. But if it had, the only thanks 

1 should desire is, that you would always be equally ready to 
serve any other person that may need your assistance, and so 
let good offices go round; for mankind are all of a family. 

3. For my own part, when I am employed in serving others, 
T do not look upon myself as conferring favors, but as paying 
debts. In my travels, and since my settlement, I have re¬ 
ceived much kindness from men, to whom I shall never have 
any opportunity of making the least direct return; and num¬ 
berless mercies from God, who is infinitely above being 
benefited by our services. 

4. Those kindnesses from men, I can therefore return on¬ 
ly on their fellow men, and I can only show my gratitude 
for these mercies from God, by a readiness to help his other 
children, and my brethren. For I do not think that thanks 
and compliments, though repeated weekly, can discharge our 
real obligations to each other, and much less those to our 
Creator. 

5. You will see in this my notion of good works, that I am 
far from expecting to merit heaven by them. By heaven we 

* One of the founders of the religious Society of Methodists, 







248 


understand a state of happiness, infinite in degree, and etet^ 
nal in duration: I can do nothing to deserve such rewards. 
He that for giving a draught of water to a thirsty person, 
should expect to be paid with a good plantation, would be 
modest in his demands, compared with those who think they 
deserve heaven for the little good they do on earth, 

6. Even the mixed imperfect pleasures we enjoy in this 
world, are rather from God’s goodness than our merit: how 
much more such happiness of heaven! For my part I have 
not the vanity to think I deserve it, the folly to expect it, nor 
the ambition to desire it; but content myself in submitting to 
the will and disposal of that God who made me, who has hith¬ 
erto preserved and blessed me, and in whose fatherly good- 
ness I may well confide, that he will never make me miser- j 
able; and that even the afflictions I may at any time suffer, ! 
shall tend to my benefit. 

7. The faith you mention has certainly its use in the world: 

I do not desire to see it diminished, nor would I endeavor to 
lessen it in any man. But I wish it were more productive of | 
good works than I have generally seen it; works of kindness, | 
charity, mercy, public spirit; not holiday-keeping, sermon- ! 
reading or hearing; performing church ceremonies, or mak-: 
ing long prayers, filled with flatteries and compliments, des-j 
pised even by wise men, and much less capable of pleasing the 
deity. 

8. The worship of God is a duty; the hearing and reading of 
sermons may be useful; but if men rest in hearing and pray¬ 
ing, as too many do, it is as if a tree should value itself on 
being watered and putting forth leaves, though it never pro¬ 
duced any fruit. 

9. Your great master thought much less of these outward 
appearances and professions, than many of his modern dis¬ 
ciples. 

10. He preferred the doers of the w ord, to the mere hear¬ 
ers; the son that seemingly refused to obey his father, and 
yet performed his commands, to him that professed his readi¬ 
ness, but neglected the work; the heretical but charitable Sa¬ 
maritan, to the uncharitable though orthodox priest, and 
sanctified Levite; and those who gave food to the hungry, 
drink to the thirsty, raiment to the naked, entertainment to 
the strrnger, and relief to the sick, though they never heard 
of his name, he' declares shall in the last day be accepted; 
when those who cry Lord! Lord! who value themselves upon 




249 

tllcir faith, though great enough to perform miracles, but have 
1 neglected good works, shall be rejected. 

1 11. He professed that he came not to call the righteous, 

' sinners to repentance; which implied his modest opinion, 
that there were some in his time, who thought themselves so 
good that they need not hear even him for improvement; but 
now-a-days we have scarce a little parson that does not think 
it the duty of every man within his reach to sit under his 
petty ministrations; and that whoever omits them offends 
God. I wish to such, more humility, and to you, health and 
happiness, being 

Your friend and servant, 

B. FRANKLIN. 


SECTION VI. 

TO MISS JANE FRANKLIN. 

Philadelphia, January 26, 1726-7. 

1. Bear Sister ,—I am highly delighted with the account 
Captain Freeman gives me of you. I always judged by your 
behaviour, when a child, that you would make a good r agree¬ 
able woman, and you know you were ever my peculiar favor¬ 
ite. I have been thinking what would be a suitable present 
for me to make, and for you to receive, as I hear you are 
grown a celebrated beauty. 

2. I had almost determined on a tea-table, but when I con¬ 
sidered that the character of a good housewife was far pre¬ 
ferable to that of being only a pretty gentlewoman, I con¬ 
cluded to send you a spinning wheel, which 1 hope you will 

; accept as a small token of my sincere love and affection. 

3. Sister, farewell, and remember that modesty, as it makes 
the most homely virgin amiable, so the want of it infallibly 
renders the most perfect beauty disagreeable and odious. 
But when that brightest of female virtues shines among other 
perfections of body and mind in the same person, it makes 
the woman more lovely than an angel. Excuse this freedom, 
and use the same with me. 

I am, dear Jenny, your loving brother, 

B. FRANKLIN. 




250 

SECTION VII. 


TO THE SAME PERSON.* 

Woodbridge, East J\*ew Jersey., May 21,1757. 

1. Dear Sister ,—I am glad to hear that Peter is at a place 
where he has full employ. A trade is a valuable thing; but 
unless a habit of industry be acquired with it, it turns out of 
little use: if he gets that in his new place, it will be a happy 
exchange, and the occasion not an unfortunate one. It is 
very agreeable to me to hear so good an account of your other 
children; in such a number to have no bad ones is a great hap¬ 
piness. 

2. I don’t doubt but Benny will do very well when he gets 
to work; but I fear his things from England wi'l be so long 
a*coming, as to occasion the loss of the rent. Would it not 
be better for you to move into the house? Perhaps not. if he j 
is near being married. I know nothing of that affair but 
what you write me, except that I think Miss Betsey a very 
agreeable, sweet tempered, good girl, who inis had a house- j 
wifely education, and Will make, to a good husband, a very 
good wife. 

S. Your sister and I have a great esteem for her, and if she 
will be Jdnd enough to accept of our nephew, we think it wilt 
he his own fault if he is not as happy as the married state can 
make him; the family is a respectable one, but whether ther^ 
be any fortune, I know not, and as you do not inquire about 
this particular, I suppose you think with me, that where every 
thing else desirable is to "be met with, that is not very mate¬ 
rial. 

4. If she does not bring a fortune, she will have to make 
one. Industry, frugality, and prudent economy, in a wife, 
are to a tradesman, in their effects, a fortune; and a fortune 
sufficient for Benjamin, if his expectations are reasonable* 
We can only add, that if the young lady and her friends are 
willing, we give our consent heartily, and our blessing, My 
love to brother, and the children concludes with me. 

Your affectionate brother, 

B. FRANK LIN. 


Many years after her marriage. 



251 


[Note—The preceding selections from the works of Dr Franklin, 

| have been principally transcribed, for republication in the Moral Instruc¬ 
tor, from “ Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin , 

| L. LD &c” with the consent of the Proprietor of the copy right. It 
will be perceived by the reader who is acquainted with the biography of 
the public as well as private life of Franklin, that his narrative, as published 
in this work, is extended only to the commencement of his public career. 

I A mere outline or profile of his vast political and philosophical services to 
1 his country and to mankind would be impracticable in a work according 
with the title and intention of this. It is the view of the compiler to ex¬ 
hibit to the American youth, examples for their contemplation and imita¬ 
tion in the scene of general, domestic, and common life, and common sense, 
rather than of those public pursuits, stations, and distinctions which but 
a limited number of us can attain to, were we all equally qualified and 
> cqmpetent with a Franklin, a Washington, or a Jefferson.] 
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PART SEVENTH. 


SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON’S FAREWELL ADDRESS: 
MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES, AND POETRY. 


CHAPTER 1. 

SECTION I. 

NATIONAL UNION, AND MUTUAL EIUENDSHU’. 

1. The following disinterested parting advice of the late 
President Washington, the master-workman in the erection 
of our Republic, ought to be deeply impressed on the mind of 
: every American youth: 

2/ In looking forward to the moment which is to terminate 
the career of my political life, my feelings do not permit me 
to suspend the deep acknowledgment of that debt of grati¬ 
tude which I owe to my beloved country, for the many ho¬ 
nors it lias conferred upon me; still more for the steadfast 
confidence with which it has supported me; and for opportu¬ 
nities 1 have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable at- 
j tachment, by services faithful and persevering, though in use¬ 
fulness unequal to my zeal. 

3. If benefits have resulted to our country from these ser¬ 
vices, let it always be remembered to your praise, and as an 

[ instructive example in our annals, that under circumstances 
in which the passions, agitated in every direction, were liable 
[ to mislead—amidst appearances sometimes dubious—vicissi¬ 
tudes of fortune often discouraging—in situations in which 
I not unfrequently want of success has countenanced the spi- 
) rit of criticism-—the constancy of your support was the essen¬ 
tial prop of the efforts and a guarantee of the plans by which 
they were effected. 

4. Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it 
with me to my grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing 
wishes, that Heaven may continue to you the choicest tokens 
of its beneficence—that your union and brotherly affection 
mav be perpetual—that the free constitution which is the 










£54 


work of your hands, may be sacredly maintained—that its 
administration in every department may be stamped with wis¬ 
dom and virtue—that,.in fine, the happiness of the people of 
these States, under the auspices of liberty, maybe made com¬ 
plete, by so careful a preservation and so prudent a use off 
this blessing, as will acquire to them the glory of recommend¬ 
ing it to the applause, the affection, and the adoption of ■every 
nation which is yet a stranger to it. 

5. Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for 
your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, aud the ap 
prehension of danger natural to that solicitude, urge me on 
an occasion like the present, to offer to your solemn contem¬ 
plation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sen¬ 
timents, which are the result of much reflection, of no incon¬ 
siderable observation, and which appear to me all-important 
to the permanency of your felicity as a people. 

6. These will be offered to you with the more freedom, as ; 
you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a i 
parting friend, who can possibly have no personal motive to i 
oias his counsel. Nor can I forget as an encouragement to 
it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a former i 
and not dissimilar occasion. 

7. Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every ligament 
of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to 
fortify or confirm the attachment. The unity of government, 
which constitutesyou one people, is also now dear to you. It is 
justly so; for it is a main pillar .in the edifice of your real in¬ 
dependence; the support of your tranquillity at home; your 
peace abroad; of your safety, of your prosperity; of that ve¬ 
ry liberty which you so highly prize. 

'8. But as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes 1 
and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many 
artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction | 
ofthis truth: as this is the point "in your political fortress 
against which the batteries of internal and external enemies 
will be most constantly and actively (though often covertly 
and insidiously) directed, it is of infinite moment, that you 
should properly estimate the immense value of your nation¬ 
al union, to your collective and individual happiness; 

9. That you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immov¬ 
able attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and 
speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and 
prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxie- 








tv; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion 
| that it can in any event be abandoned; and indignantly frown¬ 
ing upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any 
portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred 
ties which now link together the various parts. 

10. For this you have every inducement of sympathy and 
interest. Citizens by birth or choice of a common country, 
that country has a right to concentrate your affections. The 
name of American, which belongs to you in your national ca¬ 
pacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more 
than any appellation derived from local discriminations. 

11. With slight shades of difference, you have the same re¬ 
ligion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have 
in a common cause fought and triumphed together; the inde¬ 
pendence and liberty you possess, are the work of joint coun¬ 
cils, and joint efforts—of common dangers, sufferings, and 
successes. 

12. The basis of our political systems is the right of the 

people to make and to alter their constitutions of govern¬ 
ment. But the constitution which at any time exists, until 
changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, 
is sacredly obligatory upon all. The very idea of the power 
and the right of the people to establish a government, pre-sup- 
poses the duty of every individual to obey the established 
government. •' / 


SECTION II. ^ 

MISCHIEFS oy PAUTT SrilUT: IMPORTANCE Or*RELIGION ASH MOJIALITF, GE- 

ICE It A L KNOWLEDGE AVI) VIIITL'E: BENEVOLENCE TO OTHER NATIONS. 

1. I have already.intimated to you the danger of parties 
in the state, with particular refeiences to the founding of 
them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a 
more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn 
manner, against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, ge¬ 
nerally. 

2. This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our na¬ 
ture, having its root in the strongest passions of the human 
mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, 
more or less stiffed, controlled, or repressed; but in those of 
the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is 
trul y their worst enemy. 







256 


3. The alternate domination of one faction over another, 
sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissention, 
which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the 
most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But 
this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despo¬ 
tism. 

4. The disorders and miseries which result,gradually incline 
the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute 
power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some pre¬ 
vailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his compe¬ 
titors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own eleva¬ 
tion, on the ruins of public liberty. 

5. Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, 
(which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the 
common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party, are 
sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people 
to discourage and restrain it. 

6. Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to politi¬ 
cal prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable sup¬ 
ports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriot¬ 
ism, who should labor to subvert these great pillars of hu¬ 
man happiness—these firmest props of the duties of men and 
citizens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, 
ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not 
trace all their connexions with private and public felicity. 

7. Let it simply be asked, where is the security for pro¬ 
perty, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obliga¬ 
tion desert the oaths, which are the instruments of investiga¬ 
tion in courts ofjustice? And let us with caution indulge the 
supposition, that morality can be maintained without religion. 
Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined edu¬ 
cation on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience 
both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail 
in exclusion of religious principles. 

8. It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a ne¬ 
cessary spring of popular government. The rule indeed ex¬ 
tends with more or less force to every species of free govern¬ 
ment. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with indif¬ 
ference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fa¬ 
bric? 

9. Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, in¬ 
stitutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In propor¬ 
tion as the structure of a government gives force to public 


opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlight¬ 
ened. 

10. Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; cul¬ 
tivate peace and harmony with all: religion and morality en¬ 
join this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not 
equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, 
and, at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind 
the magnanimous and too novel example of a people always 
guided by an exalted justice and benevolence. 

11. Who can doubt that in the course of time and things, 
the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary 
advantages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it? 
Can it be, that Providence has not connected the permanent 
felicity of a nation with its virtue? The experiment, at least, 
is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human 
nature. Alas! is it rendered impossible by its vices? 

12. In the execution of such aplau, nothing is more essen¬ 
tial than that permanent and inveterate antipathies against 
particular nations, and passionate attachments for others, 
should be excluded; and that, in place ofthem, just and ami¬ 
cable feelings towards all should be cultivated. 

13. In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an 
old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make 
the strong and lasting impression I could wish—that they 
will control the usual current of the passions, or prevent our 
nation from running the course which has hitherto marked 
the destiny of nations. 

14. But if l may even flatter myself, that they may be pro¬ 
ductive of some partial benefit, some occasional good; that 

; they may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party 
spirit; to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigue; to 
guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism; this 
hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your 
welfare, by which they have been dictated. 

* 22 









CHAPTER 2. 

DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

In Congress, July 4th, 1776. 


TjHE UNANIMOUS DECLARATION OF THE THIRTEEN UNITEtt 
STATES OF AMERICA. 

1. When, in the course of human events, it becomes neces¬ 
sary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have 
connected them with another, and to assume, among the pow¬ 
ers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the 
laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them, a decent 
respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should 
dectare the causes which impel them to the separation. 

2. We hold these truths to be self evident:—that all men 
are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator 
with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, 
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these 
rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their 
just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever 
any form of government becomes destructive of these ends,, 
it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it; and to insti¬ 
tute new government, laying its foundation on such princi¬ 
ples, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall 
seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. 

3. Prudence, indeed, will dictate, that governments long 

established should not be changed for light and transient 
causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown, that man¬ 
kind are more disposed to suffer while evils are sufferable, 
than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they 
are accustomed. ( . ,, 

4. But when along train of abuses and usurpations, pur¬ 
suing invariably the same object, evinces a design to r educe 
them under absolute despotism, it fs their right, it is their 
duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new 
guards for their future security. 

5. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies;, 
and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter 
their former systems of government. The history of the pre¬ 
sent king of Great Britain,, is a history of repeated injuries 
and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment 


259 


of an absolute tyranny over these States. To prove this, let 
farts be submitted to a candid world: 

6. He has refused his assent to laws the most wholesome 
and necessary for the public good. He has forbidden his go- 

I vernors to pass laws of immediate and pressing importance, 
unless suspended in their operation, till his assent should be 
obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to 
attend to them. 

7. He has refused to pass other laws for the accommoda¬ 
tion of large districts of people, unless those people would 
relinquish the right of representation in the legislature: a 
right inestimable to them, and formidable to tyrants only. 

8. He has called together legislative bodies at places un- 
i usual, uncomfortable, and distant from the repository of their 
i public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into 
| compliance with his measures. He has dissolved represen- 
1 tative houses repeatedly, for opposing, with manly firmness, 

his invasions on the rights of the people. 

9. He has refused, for a long time after such dissolutions, 
to cause others to he elected; whereby the legislative powers, 
incapable of annihilation,have returned to the people at large, 

i for their exercise, the State remaining, in the mean time, ex- 
! posed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convul- 
| sions within. 

10. He has endeavored to prevent the population of these 
! States; for that purpose obstructing the laws for naturaliza¬ 
tion of foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their 
migration hither, and raising the conditions of new appro¬ 
priations of lands. He has obstructed the administration of 
justice, by refusing his assent to laws for establishing judi- 

| ciary powers. 

11. He has maeje judges dependent on his will alone, for 
I the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of 

j their salaries. He has erected a multitude of new offices, 
land sent hither swarms of officers, to harass our people, and 
I eat out their substance. He has kept among us, in times of 
j peace, standing armies, without the consent of our legisla¬ 
tures. lie has affected to render the military independent 
i of, and superior to, the civil power. 

J2. lie has combined with others to subject us to jurisdic¬ 
tion foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our 
laws; giving his assent to their acts of pretended legislation: 
(Tor quartering large bodies of armed troops among us: For 






260 


protecting them, by a mock trial, from punishment, for finv ■ 
murders which they should commit on the inhabitants m 
these States: For cutting oft our trade with all parts of the 
world: For imposing taxes on us without our consent: 

IS. For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial 
by jury: For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pre¬ 
tended offences: For abolishing the free system of English 
laws in a neighboring Province, establishing therein an arbi¬ 
trary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so as to ren¬ 
der itatonce an example and fit instrument for introducing 
the same absolute rule into these colonies: For taking away 
our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and altering, j 
fundamentally, the forms of our governments: For suspend- 
ing our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested 
with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever. 

14. lie has abdicated government here, by declaring us | 
out of his protection, and waging war against us. He has 
plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt Our towns, and 
destroyed the lives of our people. He is at this time trans¬ 
porting large armies of r oreign mercenaries to complete the 
works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with 
circumstances of cruelty and perfidy, scarcely paralleled in 
the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a 
civilized nation. 

15. He has constrained our fellow citizens, taken captive; 
on the high seas, to bear arms against their country, to be-; 
come the executioners of their friends and brethren, or to fall 
themselves by their hands. He has excited domestic insur¬ 
rections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inha¬ 
bitants of our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose 
known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of 
ail ages, sexes, and conditions. 

16. In every stage of these oppressions we have petitioned 

for redress in the most humble terms: our repeated petitions! 
have been answered only by repeated injury. A prince, whose 
character is thus marked by every act which may define a ty¬ 
rant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. / I 

17. Nor have we been wanting in attention to our British 
brethren. We have warned them from time to time, of at¬ 
tempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable juris¬ 
diction over us. We have reminded them of the circum¬ 
stances of our emigration and settlement here. We have ap¬ 
pealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have 




261 


r conjured them by the ties of our common kindred, to disavow 
f these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our con- 
» nexions an<l correspondence. They too have been deaf to 
the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, there- 
I fore, acquiesce in the necessity which denounces our separa- 
. tion, and hold them as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies 
( in war, in peace friends. 

18. We, therefore, the representatives of the United States 
of America, in general congress assembled, appealing to the 
, Supreme Judge of the world, for the rectitude of our inten- 
! tions, do, in the name and by the authority of the good peo¬ 
ple of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these 
| united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and inde¬ 
pendent States; that they are absolved from all allegiance 
to the British crown, and that all political connexion be¬ 
tween them and the state of Great Britain, is, and ought to be, 
totally dissolved; and that as free and independent States, 
they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract 
alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and 
things which independent States may of right do. And for 
the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the 
protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each 
other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor. 



CHAPTER 8. 

MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES; ON EDUCATION, TEMPERANCE, &C. 

SECTION I. 

SUNDAY schools: education of the poor: books. 

1. It might appear a paradox in politics, if we were not 
daily accustomed to absurdities, that Sunday schools have 
ibeen discountenanced because they have a tendency to cause 
people to think, and expose them to the risk of reading in¬ 
cendiary publications. People who reason after this man¬ 
ner may be divided into two classes. 

2. The fu st would confine all knowledge within the factiti¬ 
ous arrangements of fortune, and consequently, would make 
fortune only the test of moral obligation, and ot ability. The 
second, actuated by milder sentiments, although by timorous 
motives, are apprehensive of evilsarising from the abuse of the 
principle. 

3. Their opinions, therefore, are to be respected, while the 
former merit contempt and abhorrence. Wi,se and virtuous 





262 


magistrates would rather govern thinking men, than mechan 
real brutes; but knaves prefer legislating for fools, Theii 
sentiments are worthy of a Turkish Cadi, and of the mendi 
an of Constantinople, but destructive of the happiness of j 
free community. 

4. It knowledge be a pernicious acquisition, it is evidently 
more dangerous in the hands of those who possess the gifts 
of fortune, and thereby power, than in the hands of the com¬ 
monality, who are deprived of those accursed resources bj 
which the fountains of honor, justice, and freedom have beer 
often corrupted and poisoned. 

5. Iron the contrary, its efforts be beneficial, who will 
presume to limit its circulation? The law of England declares 
that ignorantia legisnon excuset; [The ignorance of the law 
will not avail the delinquent, this is the principle of all free 
governments. In what manner therefore we can reconcile 
the commission of a crime, and its punishment with utter ig¬ 
norance, 1 leave to the explication of those political sophists, 
who delight to make a mystery of government, and to con¬ 
found the plainest principles of common sense and justice. 

1 f 9 cannot be denied, that a disposition to obtain know¬ 
ledge is common to all,and that talents display themselves 
to a very high degree among the unlettered parts of the com¬ 
munity. Povertyis no more an evidence of incapacity, than 
wealth is, of capacity for knowledge; for many a Cicero has 
kept sheep, many a Ctesar followed the plough, and ma ,y a 
Virgil foddered cattle. This subject is beautifully illustrated 
m tiie “Grave” of Blair.— Fork. 

7. It is a truth which cannot be too strongly impressed, that 
ol all our exertions for the benefit of our fellow-creatures, the 
education of the poor is the most efficacious: it invigorates the 
body politic, and forms and prepares, from every class ofso- 
ciety, useful and active members, to fill the most important] 
duties and stations of life.— Muir. 

8 ; ^norance is the bane of society; it is the greatest foe 
against which a nation has to contend—destroy its reign, and 5 
a tyrant falls. Who is the midnight murderer? Who are 11 
the disturbers of the peace? Are they the well-instructed?* 
Against whom is the stronghand of.the magistrate uplifted? c 
against the man who knows his duty? No; but against him ; 
Whom ignorance has made brutish. o 

. 9. YV here is -the person that will plead for ignorance as for 
’VMtue, Who will say that shv is the mother of devotion; or 




263 


|(be source of subordination? She is the mother of no good 
thing Bigotry and superstition are her offspring. She is 
the parent of cruelty, and the nurse of crimes. 

10/ Read, in the history of the world, the effects of igno¬ 
rance. The wandering Arab, the fierce and barbarous Indian, 
ire what they are from ignorance- England, when barba¬ 
rous was the abode of misery: every man’s hand was lifted 
against his neighbor. 

11. That crimes diminishin proportion to the cultivation 
of knowledge, has been already urged; in addition to the 
proofs before adduced, “ In one of the protestant Cantons of 
Switzerland, the people were so well instructed that the execu¬ 
tioner was called upon to perform his hateful office but once 
n the long space of twenty years! Such are some of the 
fruits of knowledge, which ripen into an immediate harvest, 
ind amply repay the cultivator.”— Report of the Committee 

1 if the “ Stockport Sunday School .” 

12. Happy are they, who, being disgusted with all violent 
' pleasures, know how to content themselves with the sweets 

if an innocent life. Happy are they, who are diverted at the 
same time that they are instructed, and please themselves by 
, enriching their minds with knowledge 

13. Wherever they maybe thrown by adverse fortune, they 

:arry their own entertainment with them; and the uneasiness 
which preys on others, even in the midst of their pleasures is 
unknown to those who can employ themselves in reading. 
Happy are they who love books and are not deprived of 
them! Telem. book iu 

14. Imagine that we had it in our power to call up the 
| shades of the greatest and wisest men that ever existed, and 
' oblige them to converse with us on the most interesling to¬ 
pics; what an inestimable privilege should we think it! how 
superior to all common enjoyments! But in a well furnished 
library, we, in fact, possess this power. 

15. \V T e can question Xenophon and Csesar on their cam¬ 
paigns; make Demosthenes and Cicero plead before us; join 
m the audiences of Socrates and Plato; and receive demon¬ 
strations from Euclid and Newton. In books we have the 
choicest thoughts of the ablest men, in their best dress. We 
can, at pleasure, exclude dullness and impertinence; and open 
our doors to wit and good sense alone. 

16. Without books, I have never been able to pass a single 
clay to my entire satisfaction: with them, no day has been sq 





dark as not to have its pleasures. Even pain and sicknes 
have fora time been charmed away by them. By the eas; 
provision of a book in my pocket, 1 have frequently won 
through long nights and days, in the most disagreeable part: 
of my profession, with all the difference in rn v feelings be 
tween calm content and fretful impatience.— IJrJU.viii's Let 
tersfrom a Father to a Son. 


SECTION II. _ j ! 

EXTRACTS PROM AN ADDRESS DELIVERED ON THE 2G<h FED. 1819, BT JlOCJi, 

INCREASE W. CHILD, ONE OF THE INSPECTORS OF CO * ION SCHOOLS, IN Til 

TOWN OF MILTON, (COUNTY OF SARATOGA, N. V.) TO AN ASSEMBLAGE O 1 

SIX DIFFERENT SCHOOLS. 

[to the scholars.] 

1. You will shortly launch into active life—you will occu jt 
py the places your parents and guardians will leave vacarri i 
to you—you will then appreciate the importance of the edu-jh 
cation you are now receiving, and regret any neglect on you ill 
part to improve the means put into your hands to acquired 
it. 

2. You all wish to be respectable men or women—your 

happiness and respectability depend on the courses you pur j 
sue: and not only your happiness and respectability, but the r 
very existence of the great political and religious privileged t 
you enjoy. Suffer your inspectors, therefore, to indulge in i 1 
few remarks on that course of conduct most likely to maket 
you happy and respectable. ' ii 

3. Ignorance is a great enemy to happiness and respecta i 

bility; and when it is accompanied with a consciousness tha i 
we have neglected opportunities of acquiring useful know 
ledge, cannot but produce in our minds a sense of shame high d 
ly inimical to happiness. Be in earnest then, while attend- c 
ing school—let not an idle moment interrupt your .progress j 
in your studies. Idleness in the scholar always produces ig v 
norance in the man, and ignorance leads to shame and dis*|v 
respectability. |j 

4. Youth is emphatically called the spring time of the hu¬ 
man intellect; the mind is then budding and blossoming, and: o, 
the fruit produced will make a man good, and great, or base > 
and infamous. Shun then every vice that will interrupt youi j 
career to true greatness, as you would the deadliest poi f 




265 


son. The true boundaries of virtue anil vice are illy delined 
in the human intellect and are to be determined only by a 
good education. 

5. I shall only add a few thoughts on the best method those 
of you, who have arrived at mature age, and expect shortly 
to leave school, can adopt in the further prosecution of your 
studies. It is too often the case that youth when they leave 
school, abandon their books—forget that an useful education 
is of any consequence, and embark in the pursuit of what is ' 
falsely called pleasure. Amusements occupy the time that 
should be devoted to study, and folly gains an ascendency 
over sound wisdom. 

6. The knowledge they have acquired at school is soon 
gone, and ignorance and vice become the inmates of a mind 
that was bidding fair to ennoble the man and make him an 
useful member of society. As an excuse for this, they will 
urge the occupations they are engaged in—they have spent 
only a few leisure hours in civil recreation, and civil recrea¬ 
tion does no harm. But what are these boasted civil recrea¬ 
tions that so frequently occupy the active and susceptible 
minds of youth. 

7. Are they as likely to improve your morals, and correct 
your taste, as the Bible, or as Addison, Blair, and many other 
moral authors, who are ornaments to human nature? will 
these civil recreations teach you Astronomy, Geography, and 
Philosophy? can you learn from them political science? will 
they improve your manner of reading, anti your style of writ¬ 
ing? will they make you expert mechanics, and learn you the 
principles of your art? will they make you good farmers, and 
instruct you in agricultural science? 

8. Organize among yourselves societies for the purpose of 
discussing questions in morals, philosophy, politics and agri¬ 
culture; meet at stated times and discuss them, and in the 
intervals of meeting, spend your leisure hours in reading and 
writing on the subject before you. By these and other means, 
which will suggest themselves to you, you will make aston¬ 
ishing progress in the acquirement of useful information. 

9. And will there be no amusement in all this? i am not 
over-rating the matter, when i say that by making science 
your amusement, you will make astonishing progress in it. 
l)o you believe 1 am? Look but for a moment to the immor¬ 
tal Pranklin: with no better opportunities than you have, or 
nKiy have, he astonished the world with his discoveries in phL 




266 


losophy. In political and domestic economy he was witli- 
out a parallel and in most things a model for all of us. 

10. There is a great defect in the. present manner of edu¬ 
cating females. The American revolution has emancipated 
them from the thraldom they have so long been held in under 
tyrannical governments; here they can assume their true 
station in society. A higher destiny than slavery and folly 
is before them—they are the nurseries of the Kings and 
Princes of America, and on the fidelity and wisdom with 
which they discharge their duty, depends the happiness of 
unborn millions. 

11. Tis they that make the first impressions on the infant 
mind. Tis they that plant the seeds of virtue, and nurse the 
first principles of true greatness. And can they do this, (and 
more than this they should do) with ignorant and foolish heads 
and vicious hearts? They cannot. Let them be educated, 
then, in a manner suited to the high station thev should 
fill.* 

12. [to the parents."] —I)o not depend entirely on the 
schoolmaster: much must be done at home; and all parents 
are capable of doing much more than they are aware of. Let 
us furnish our children with useful books; let us spend our 
leisure, hours in reading to them, or in hearing them read to I 
us: let us question them, and encourage them to endeavor to 
answer our questions; let us condescend to reason with 
them, and make them feel that they have minds and reason¬ 
ing faculties, by encouraging them to argue with us. Here 
much is to be gained and no hazard of losing. 

13. The parent’s ingenuity will suggest hundreds of ques¬ 
tions, which may be asked, and hundreds of subjects which 
may be discussed. Geography and history are easiest com¬ 
prehended by children, and abound in questions that may be 
asked; with history is intimately connected the form of gov- 

* If there must he any preference to either sex, in the extension of mental 
improvement, let it be to the female. Instruction is re-productive, ud injini- 
tvm; and the domestic station of females gives them the best opportunity of 
transmitting virtuous sentiments to future generations. The beautiful senti¬ 
ment expressed in the following extract from the letter of the Corresponding 
.Secretary of the American Academy of Languages and Belles Lettres, Wil¬ 
liam S. Cardell, Esq. to Gov. Robertson, of Louisiana, deserves to be cordial¬ 
ly cherished by every daughter of Columbia, as a more precious gem than 
any metallic or stony jewel that ever decorated the head or finger of a queen. 
“ We seldom fail of seeing a superior family of children, where an intelligent 
and virtuous mother is the teacher.” 


267 


eminent ami the policy of nations. The right and wrong of 
these should be well understood by every American. Morals 
and philosophy will also come in Tor a share; they should be 
well understood; but l am growing tedious; I must leave the 
matter with you. 

SECTION ill. 

LABOR AND EXERCISE INDISPENSABLE FOR MKALTtt. 

Pray fora sound mind in a sound body.— juv. 

1. Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a man 
submits to for his livelihood; or that which he undergoes for 
his pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the name 
of labor for that of exercise, but (lifters only from ordinary 
labor as it rises from another motive. A country life abounds 
in both these kinds of labor, and for that reason gives a man 
a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfect 
enjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. 

2. I consider the body as a system of tubes and glands, or 
to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, 
fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner, as to make 
a proper engine for the soul to work with. This description 
does not only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, 
nerves, and arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, 
which is a composition of fibres, that are so many impercep¬ 
tible tubes or pipes interwoven on all sides with invisible 
glands or strainers. 

3. This general idea of a human body, without consider¬ 

ing it in its niceties of anatomy, lets us see how absolutely 
necessary labor is for the right preservation of it. There 
must be frequent motions and agitations, to mix, digest, and 
separate the juices contained in it, as well as to clear and 
cleanse that infinitude of pipes and strainers of which it is 
composed, and to give their solid parts a more firm and last¬ 
ing tone. Labor or exercise ferments the humors, casts them 
into their proper channels, throws oft’redundancies,and helps 
nature in those secret distributions, without which the body 
cannot subsist in its vigor, nor the soul act with cheerful¬ 
ness. 4 

4. I might here mention the effects which this has upon all 
the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understanding clear, 
the imagination untroubled, and refining those spirits that 



268 


arc necessary for the proper exertion of our intellectual Fa¬ 
culties, during the present laws of union between soul and 
body. It is to a neglect in this particular that we must as¬ 
cribe the spleen, which is so frequent in men of studious and 
sedentary tempers, as well as the vapors to which those of 
the other sex are so often subject. 

5. Had not exercise been so absolutely necessary for our 
well being, nature would not have made the body so proper ! 
for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, and such a pli-j 
ancy to every part, as necessarily produce those compres¬ 
sions, extensions, contortions, dilations, and all other kinds 
of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a 
system of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. 

6. And that wc might not want inducements to engage us j 
in such an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it 
is so ordered, that nothing valuable can be procured without 
it. Not to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment 
are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and sweat ! 
of the brows. 

7. Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we 
should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored 
before it gives its increase, and when it is forced into its se¬ 
veral products, how many hands must they pass through be-i 
fore they are fit for use? Manufactures, trade, and agricul¬ 
ture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the spe¬ 
cies in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labor, 
by the condition in which they are born, they are more miser¬ 
able than the rest of mankind, unless they indulge them¬ 
selves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name of ex¬ 
ercise. 

8. There is no kind of exercise which I would so recom¬ 
mend to my readers of both sexes as that of riding, as there 
is none which so much conduces to health, and is every way 
accommodated to the body, according to the idea which I 
have given of it. Dr. Sydenham is very lavish in its praises 
and if the English reader will see the mechanical effects of it 
described at length, he may find them in a book published not 
many years since, under the title o (Medicina Gymnastic a. 

9. For my own part when lam in town, for want of these 
opportunities, I exercise myself an hour every morning upon 
a dumb bell that is placed in a. corner of rny room, and pleases 
me the more because it does every thing I require in the most 
profound sileacp, My landlady and her daughters are sp 







269 


well acquainted with my hours of exercise, that they never 
come into my room to disturb me while I am ringing. 

10. To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I 
consider myself as obliged to a double scheme of duties; and 
think I have not fulfilled the business of the day when I do 
not thus employ the one in labor and exercise, as well as the 
other in study and contemplation. 

Spectator, «7V*o. 115.— Jlddison. 


SECTION IV. 

EXERCISE AND TEMPERANCE PRESERVE HEALTH AND PROLONG 
LIFE. 

Fools not to know that half exceeds the whole, 

How blest the sparing meal and frugal bowl.— hes. 

1. There is a story in the Arabian Nights’ Tales, of a king 
who had long languished under an ill habit of body, and had 
taken abundance of remedies to no purpose. At length, says 
the fable, a physician cured him by the following method; 
he took an hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several 
drugs; after which he closed it up so artificially that nothing 
appeared. He likewise took a mall, and after having hollow¬ 
ed the handle, and that part which strikes the ball, inclosed 
in them several drugs after the same manner as in the ball 
itself. 

2. He then ordered the sultan, who was his patient, to ex¬ 
ercise himself early in the morning with these rightly prepar¬ 
ed instruments, till such time as he should sweat; when, as 
the story goes, the virtue of the medicaments perspiring 
through the wood, had so good an influence on the sultan’s 
constitution, that they cured him of an indisposition which 
all the compositions he had taken inwardly had not been able 
to remove. 

3. This eastern allegory is finely contrived to show us how 
beneficial bodily labor is to health, and that exercise is the 
most effectual physic. I have described in my hundred and 
fifteenth paper, from the general structure and mechanism of 
a human body, how absolutely necessary exercise is for its 
preservation; I shall in this place recommend another great 
preservative of health, which in many cases produces the 
same effects as exercise, and may in some measure, supply 
its place, where opportunities of exercise are wanting. 

* 23 






270 


4. Tht* preservative T am speaking of is Temperance, which 
has those particular advantages above all other means of 
health, that it may be practised by all ranks and conditions, 
at any season, or in any place. It is a kind of regimen into 
which every man may put himself without interruption to 
business, expense of money, or loss of time. 

5. If exercise throws off all superfluities, temperance pre¬ 
vents them: if exercise raises proper ferments in the humors, 
and promotes the circulation of the blood, temperance gives 
nature her full play, and enables her to exert herself in al l her 
force and vigor: if exercise dissipates a growing distemper, 
temperance starves it. 

6. Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the substi¬ 
tute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are indeed abso¬ 
lutely necessary in acute distempers; that cannot wait the 
slow operations of these two great instruments of health: but 
did men live in an habitual course of exercise and temper¬ 
ance, there, would be but little occasion for them. Accord¬ 
ingly we find that those parts of the world are the most 
healthy, where they subsist by the chace; and that men lived 
longest when their lives were employed in hunting, and when 
they had little food besides what they caught. 

7. Blistering, cupping, bleeding, are seldom of use to any 
but to the idle and intemperate; as all those inward applica¬ 
tions, which are so much in practice among us, are, for the 
most part, nothing else but expedients to make luxury con¬ 
sistent with health. The apothecary is perpetually employ¬ 
ed in countermining the cook and the vintner. It is said of 
Diogenes, that meeting a young man who was going to a feast, 
he took him up in the street, and carried him home to his 
friends, as one who was running into imminent danger, had 
he not prevented him. 

8. What would that philosopher have said, had he been pre¬ 
sent at the gluttony of a modern meal? Would not he have 
thought the master of a family mad, and had begged his ser¬ 
vant to tie down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish, 
and flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; throw 
down saliads of twenty different herbs, sauces of an hundred 
ingredients, confections and fruits of numberless sweets and 
flavors. 

9. What unnatural motions and counter-ferments must 
such a medley ofintemperance produce in the body! For my 
^urt, when l behold a fashionable table set out in all its mag- 


271 

nificence, I-fancy that I see gouts and dropsies, fevers and 
lethargies, with other innumerab*e distempers, lying in am¬ 
buscade among the dishes. 

10. Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. 
Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs are the 
food of tins species, fish of that, and flesh of a third. Man 
falls upon every thing that comes in his way; not the smallest 
fruit or excrescence of the earth, scarce a berry, or a mush¬ 
room, can escape him. 

11. It is impossible to lay down any determinate rule for 
temperance, because what is luxury in one may be temper¬ 
ance in another; but there are few that have lived any time 
in the world, who are not judges of their own constitutions, 
so far as to know what kinds and what proportions of food do 
best agree with them. 

12. Were I to consider my readers as my patients, and to 
prescribe such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to 
all persons, and such as is particularly suitable to our climate 
and way of living, I would copy the following rules of a very 
eminent physician. Make your whole repast out of one dish. 
If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking any thing strong 
till you have finished your meal: at the same time abstain from 
all sauces, or at least such as are not the most plain and sim¬ 
ple. 

13. It is observed by two or three ancient authors, that So¬ 
crates, notwithstanding lie lived in Athens during that great 
plague, which has made so much noise through all ages, and 
haft been celebrated at different times by such eminent hands; 
I say, notwithstanding that he lived in the time of this de¬ 
vouring pestilence, he never caught the least infection, which 
those writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupted tem¬ 
perance which he always observed. 

14. And here I cannot but mention an observation which l 
have often made, upon reading the lives of the philosophers, 
and comparing them with any series of kings or great men of 
the same number. If we consider these ancient sages, a great 
part of whose philosophy consisted in a temperate and abste¬ 
mious course of life, one would think the life of a philosopher 
and the life of a man were of two different dates. For we 
find, that the generality of these wise men were nearer a 
hundred than sixty years of age at the time ot their respec¬ 
tive deaths. 

15. But the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of tem- 


272 


peranee towards the procuring of long life, is what we meet 
with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro, the Vene¬ 
tian; which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubted 
credit, as the late Venetian ambassador, who was of the same 
family, attested more than once in conversation, when he re¬ 
sided in England. 

16. Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatise I am 
mentioning, was of an infirm canstitution, till about forty, 
when, by obstinately persisting in an exact course of temper¬ 
ance, he recovered a perfect state of health; insomuch that at 
fourscore he published his book which has been translated in¬ 
to English, under the title of Sure and Certain Methods of at¬ 
taining a Long and Healthy Life . 

17. He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and af¬ 
ter having passed his hundredth year, died without pain or 
agony, and like one who falls asleep. The treatise I men¬ 
tion has been taken notice of by several eminent authors, and 
is written with such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion, and 
good sense, as are the natural concomitants of temperance 
and sobriety. The mixture of the old man in it is rather a 
recommendation than a discredit to it. 

18. Having designed this paper as the sequel to that upon 
exercise,! have not here considered temperance as it is a 
moral virtue, which 1 shall make the subject of a future spe¬ 
culation, but only as it is the means of health. 

Spectator No. 195.— Addison . 


SECTION V. 

EXTRACTS FROM DR. BELKNAP’S ADDRESS TO THE INHABITANTS' 
OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, AT THE CLOSE OF HIS HISTORY OF THAT 
STATE. 

CITIZENS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, 

1. Having spent above twenty years of my life with you, 
and passed through various scenes of peace and war within 
that time, being personally acquainted with many of you, both 
in your public and private characters; and having an earnest 
desire to promote _your true interest, I trust you will not 
think me altogether unqualified to give you a few hints by 
way of advice. 

2. You are certainly a rising state; your numbers are ra¬ 
pidly increasing; and your importance in the political scale 
will be augment' d, in proportion to your improving the na- 




273 

~ * ^ 

tural advantages which your situation affords you, and to 
your cultivating the intellectual and moral powers of your¬ 
selves ansi your children. 

S. 1 he first article on which I would open my mind to you 
is that ot education. Nature has been as bountiful to you as 
to any other people, in giving your children genius and capa- 
eity; it is then your duty and your interest to cultivate their 
capacities, and render them serviceable to themselves and the 
community. 

4. It was the saying of a great orator and statesman of an¬ 
tiquity, that “ the loss whicn the commonwealth sustains, by 
a want of education, is like the loss which the year would 
suffer by the destruction of the spring.” 

5. It the bud be blasted, the tree will yield no fruit. If the 
springing corn be cut down, there will be no harvest. So if 
the youth be ruined through a fault in their education, the 
community sustains a loss which cannot be repaired; “ for it 
is too Jate to correct them when they are spoiled,” 

6. Notwithstanding the care of your legislators in enacting 
laws and enforcing them by severe penalties; notwithstand¬ 
ing the wise and liberal provisions which is made by some 
towns, and some private gentlemen in the State; yet {here is- 
still, in many places, “ a great and criminal neglect of edu¬ 
cation.” 

7. You are indeed a very considerable degree better, in this- 
respect, than in the time of the late war; but yet much remains 
to be done. Great care ought to be taken, not only to pro¬ 
vide a support for instructors of children and youth^hut to be 
attentive in the choice of instructors; to see that they be men 
of good understanding, learning and morals; that they teach 
by their example as well as by their precepts; that they govern 
themselves and teach their pupils the art of self-government. 

8. Another source of improvement, w hich I beg leave to re¬ 
commend, is the establishment of social libraries. This is the 
easiest, the cheapest and most effectual mode of diffusing 
knowledge among the people. For the sum of six or eight 
dollars at. once, and a small annual payment besides, a man 
may be supplied with the means of literary improvement, 
during his life, and his children may inherit the blessing. 

9. A few neighbors joined together in setting up a library, 
and placing it under the care of some suitable person, with a 
very few;regulations, to prevent carelessness and waste, may 
render the most essential service to themselves and to the 
community* 


274 


10. Books may be much better preserved in this way, than i 
if they belonged to individuals; and there is an advantage in i 
the social intercourse of persons who have read the samei. 
books, by their conversing on the subjects which have occur* jt 
red in their reading, and communicating their observations! 
one to another. 

11. From this mutual intercourse, another advantage may h 
arise; for the persons who are thus associated may not only I 1 
acquire, but originate knowledge. By studying nature and * 
the sciences; by practising arts, agriculture and manufac-h 
tures, at the same time that they improve their minds ill . 
reading, they may be led to discoveries and improvements,] 
original and beneficial; and being already formed into sot ie- ? 
ty, they may diffuse their knowledge, ripen their plans, cor- « 
rect their mistakes, and promote the cause of science and hu- 1 
manity in a very considerable degree. 

12. The book of nature is always open to our view, and we j, 
may study it at our leisure. “ Tis elder scripture, writ by 
God*s own hand.” The earth, the air, the sea, the rivers, the j 
mountains, the rocks, the caverns, the animal and vegetable It 
tribes are fraught with instruction. Nature is not half ex-f 
plored: and in what is partly known there are many in yste- \ 
ries, which time, observation and experience must unfold. 

13. Every social library, among other books, should be fur- ? 
nished with those of natural philosophy, botany, zoology, chy- i 
mistry, husbandry, geography and astronomy: that inquiring \ 
minds may be directed in their inquiries; that they may see 
what is known, and what still remains to be discovered; and 
that they may employ their leisure and their various oppor- j 
tunities iri endeavoring to add to the Stock of science, and 
thus enrich the world with their observations and improve- i 
inents. 

14. Suffer me to add a few words on the use of spiritous 
liquor , that bane of society, that destroyer of health, morals 
and property. Nature indeed has furnished her vegetable 
productions with spirit; but she has so combined it with other 
substances, that unless her work be tortured by fire, the spi¬ 
rit is not separated, and cannot prove pernicious. Why 
should this forte be put on nature, to make her yield a noxi¬ 
ous draught, when all her original preparations are saluta¬ 
ry- 

15. Die juice of the apple, the fermentations of barley, and 
decoction of spruce, are amply sufficient for the refreshment 


275 


| of man, let his labor be ever so severe, and his perspiration 
ever so expensive. Our forefathers, for many years after the 
settlement of the country, knew not the use of distilled spi¬ 
rits. 

16. Malt was imported from England, and wine from the 
Western or Canary Islands, with which they were refreshed, 
before their own fields and orchards yielded them a supply. 
An expedition was once undertaken against a nation of In¬ 
dians, when there was but one pint of strong water (as it was 
then called) in the whole army, and that was reserved for the 
sick; yet no complaint was made for want of refreshment. 

17. Could we but return to the primitive manners of our 
ancestors, in this respect, we should be free from many of the 
disorders, both of body and mind, which are now experienced. 
The disuse of ardent spirits would also tend to abolish the in¬ 
famous traffic of slav es, by whose labor this baneful material 
is procured. 

18. Were I to form a picture of happy society, it would be 
a town consisting of a due mixture of hills, vallies, and 
streams of water. The land well fenced and cultivated; the 
roads and bridges in good repair; a decent inn for the refresh¬ 
ment of travellers, and for public entertainments. The in¬ 
habitants mostly husbandmen; their wives and daughters do¬ 
mestic manufacturers; a suitable proportion of handicraft 
workmen, and two or three traders; a physician and a law¬ 
yer, each of whom' should have a farm for his support. 

19. A clergyman, of good understanding, of a candid dis- 
! position and exemplary morals; not a metaphysical, nor a 

polemic, but a serious and practical preacher. A schoolmas¬ 
ter who should understand his business, and teach his pupils 
to govern themselves. A social library, annually increasing, 
and under good regulation. 

20. A club of sensible men, seeking mutual improvement, 
a decent musical society. No intriguing politician, horse- 
jockey, gambler or sot; but all such characters treated with 
contempt. Such a situation may be considered as the most 
favorable to social happiness of any which this world can af- 

i ford. 







276 


SECTION VI. 

| 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN MRS. CARELESS AND MRS. FRIENDLY, UrON 
FEMALE EDUCATION. 

Mrs, Careless. Good morning, my dear Mrs. Friendly. I 
came to request your company in a walk; but I see you are 
engaged with a book; pray what is it? 

Mrs. Friendly. It is a treatise on female education, which I 
pleases me much; and will, with domestic avocations, de- ; 
prive me of the pleasure of walking with you this morn* t 
ing. . . 11 

Mrs. Care. And what have you to do with treatises on ] 
education? I seldom read any thing, and never books of that ( 
kind. I should as soon think of plodding through a volume 
of old sermons. Jj 

Mrs. Fr. I assure you I consider the education of youth, t 
females in particular, to be a matter of the first importance; { 
and I take great pleasure in reading the observations ot inge- ( 
nious writers on the subject. I have children, in whose wel- j 
fare, I need not tell you, I am deeply interested; and their , 
happiness or misery, their honor or infamy, entirely depend, 4 
in my opinion, on the principles and habits they acquire in 
youth, whilst the mind is tender, and the voice of instruction 
sinks deep. h 

Mrs. Care. But cannot children be educated, unless their 
parents read books on the subject? q, 

Mrs. Fr. Certainly they can, if their parents are therm s 
selves qualified for the task. But I find it a diliicult and de- t 
licate business, and therefore I have recourse to the wise and r 
experienced for assistance in conducting it. 

Mrs. Care. The assistance of the dancing, music, and 0 
drawing master is all l require for my children. They shall; s , 
indeed know something of reading, writing and needle work 
but to give them a polite education, and make them accom¬ 
plished, is my aim. j r 

Mrs. Fr. 1 fear my dear Mrs. Careless, you do not distia (; 
guisli the advantages, which arise from a useful rather than t ^ 
polite education; since you speak with so much indifference^ 
of the former, and with such raptures of the latter. 

Mrs. Care. Pray what are the mighty advantages of edu 
eating children iu what you style a useful manner? 1 nevei a , 
yet saw them. 

Mrs.Fr . Then you are no very strict observer. (I bej; 

I 





277 


your pardon for speaking thus freely.) But surely each day 
brings, instances of its advantages; and each day shows the 
mischief of a contrary mode. The kind of education I men¬ 
tion is that which tends to give females well regulated minds 
and agreeable manners; and render them beloved, esteemed 
and admired. For it is by no means necessary in order to 
this, that a young lady should be mistress of all polite accom¬ 
plishments. They often belonged to some of the most dis* 
gusting and insignificant of the sex. No, let parents form the 
growing mind to virtue, religion, and the calm pleasures of 
domestic life; at the same time endeavoring that cheerful-* 
ness play round the heart,and innocent gaiety enliven the be¬ 
haviour. Let the habit ofself government be early produced; 
for all the world conspiring cannot make a woman happy 
who does not govern her passions. Let the first appearance 
of stubbornness in them be checked and resisted; and let 
them be taught cheerfully to deny themselves every object of 
desire, inconsistent with reason, 'prudence or virtue. Thus 
cultured, their tempers will be sweet and placid, and their 
manners gentle and engaging, if they are put under the care 
of tutors abroad, they will not be unteachable and refractory; 
and the presence of their parents will not be necessary to 
make them behave with discretion and propriety. 

Mrs. Care. Well, after their minds are thus taken care of, 
how would you have them further accomplished? 

Mrs. Fr. They should be well versed in reading, writing, 
arithmetic, and English grammar. If their natural genius 
strongly led them to poetry, painting, or music, and easy for¬ 
tune admitted, it should be indulged and cultivated, but by no 
means to such a degree as to interrupt or supersede domes¬ 
tic employments. For these require attention in a greater 
or less degree from every woman; and unless she under¬ 
stand and discharge them according to her circumstances, 
she is contemptible and useless. 

Mrs. Care. Fine accomplishments, truly! a perfect skill 
in handling the broom and duster! Mrs. Friendly, ifyou edu¬ 
cate your children in this way, they will be ruined; they will 
be strangers to the charms of dancing, dress and company. 
The graces will never condescend to adorn those who are ac¬ 
customed to the kitchen. 

Mrs . Fr. My friend,! have no objection to dancing, dress 
and company, when they form not the chief object of solici¬ 
tude and attention, and are cultivated merely as the recrea- 

24 







278 


Lion and ornaments of life, and not as the business and end of 
it. Be assured, a well furnished mind, a w r ell governed tem¬ 
per, love of domestic pleasures, and an inclination and capa¬ 
city to pursue domestic employments, are the first requisites 
in a woman, and the foundation of her respectability and en¬ 
joyment. Without these, though her graceful mein and danc¬ 
ing charm every eye, and her music be sweeter than the harp 
of Orpheus, she must be unhappy in herself, and a vexation 
and torment to her friends. Let us view a person educated 
in the school of dissipation, and furnished with merely polite 
accomplishments. Engrossed by the desire of leading a life 
of amusement before she can even spell a sentence, and un¬ 
furnished with just sentiments and industrious habits, she is 
sent to the dancing academy that her manners may become 
graceful. Here she sees gayer dresses than her own, which 
inflame with vanity and envy her giddy, unoccupied mind. 
She is determined to be outdone by none in elegance. She 
disputes with mama about fashions and fine clothes; and if 
her extravagant desires are not indulged, murmurs and re¬ 
pines at her cruel fate; becomes confirmed in the detestable 
habit of fretting; and knows not content but by the name. A 
fondness for those phantoms which lure to ruin called plea¬ 
sures, and a passion for show and parade, which perhaps 
through life she can never indulge, gain entire possession of 
her heart. All her joys are in gay parties and assemblies, 
where, like the butterfly of summer, she pleases by the brilli¬ 
ance of her colors only; which however, is no sooner familiar 
to the eye, than it is beheld with indifference; yet alas! this is 
all the attraction which this child of vanity can boast. Ma* 
turer years steal on; her mind is so uncultivated that she is 
incapable of the rational pleasures of thinking and conversa¬ 
tion; her love of dissipation and amusement grows with her 
growth; she sighs for new pleasures, but alas! she has so of¬ 
ten travelled the circle, that their novelty is destroyed. With 
all her apparent gaiety, she is probably more wretched than 
the miscreant who begs the morsel that sustains his being. If 
she be ever placed at the head of a family, she disgusts her 
husband, neglects her children, and order, peace and indus¬ 
try are strangers in her house. Her company is ever unin-, 
teresting or disagreeable, her name is synonimous with folly, 
and her memory is lost with her life. 

JIrs. Care. YV hat a picture, my dear Mrs. Friendly, have 
you drawn! I turn from it with horror. I assure you, my ' 


279 

chief*care shall be to form my children to reflection, self-- 
government and industry; and they and I shall have reason 
to rejoice in the change you have made in my sentiments. 

Mrs . Fr. I rejoice to hear you express yourself in such a 
manner. Believe me, when 1 say, the best fortune which 
can be bestowed on a child is a good education. It secures 
her honor and happiness through life, whatever be her station; 
and it leads her to the exercise of thos noble and virtuous dis¬ 
positions which are an indispensable preparation for the en¬ 
joyments of the future state .—American Preceptor . 


CHAPTER 4. 

NATIONAL EDUCATION, TEMPERANCE, AND ECONOMY. 

SECTION I. 

SPEECH OF THE HON. PHINEAS WHITE, IN FAVOR OF NATIONAL 

EDUCATION. 

In the House of Representatives, on the 12th February, 1S23, My. 
White, of Vermont, submitted the following resolution, to wit: 

Besolved, That the Committee of Ways and Means be in¬ 
structed to inquire into the expediency of appropriating and 
setting apart a moiety or portion of the avails of the annual 
sales of the public lands, for the purpose of establishing a 
permanent increasing fund, the interest of which, after it 
shall have increased to a given sum, shall he distributed for 
the promotion of education, in the several states, according 
to the principles of equal l ight and justice. 

After the resolution was read, Mr. White rose and asked 
the indulgence of the House fora few moments, whilst lie 
should present his views of the importance of the subject 
matter of the resolution, and proceeded as follows: 

1. Mr. Speaker —Of all the subjects worthy the consider¬ 
ation of a republican government, Education is of the first 
and highest importance. Education is to the republican bo¬ 
dy politic, what vital air is to the natural body, necessary ta 
its very existence; without which, it would sicken, droop, 
and die. Education ought to be here considered, in its broad¬ 
est sense, as not only embracing literary and scientific, but 
political , moral , and religious instruction. 

2. On education, viewed in this light, depends all that is 
good and great, magnanimous and praiseworthy, in the hit- 




280 


man character, and essentially important to the social state 
of man. The republican institutions of this country are bot¬ 
tomed upon the virtue and intelligence of the people, and 
on the maintenance and preservation of that foundation, will 
their perpetuity depend. Let the great body of the people 
be well informed, and their moral character preserved, they 
will know and understand their rights and privileges; a 
correct, moral principle, will always prompt them to a faith¬ 
ful performance of civil and social duties, which will, inevi¬ 
tably, ensure the enjoyment of those rights and privileges. 

S. Our wise and virtuous predecessors have always had 
respect to the importance of education to a free people; and, 
in fixing the conditions of admission of new states into the 
Union, they have wisely provided that a portion of the pub¬ 
lic lands should be set apart for the promotion of education 
in those states. Is it not sincerely to be hoped that those 
who have the power, at the present day, will follow their ex¬ 
ample—go on in perfecting the good work, and will deal out 
equal and exact justice to all? 

4. How far the old states, or those for whose benefit, for 
the purpose of education, the national government have not 
made appropriations of lands, have a superior claim to the 
new, or those for whose benefit such appropriations have 
been made, I will not now pretend to say; but this, Mr. 
Speaker, I will say that, in my humble opinion, the national 
government could not do a wiser act, than now to set apart 
a portion of the avails of the annual sales of the puoijc lands 
for the establishment of a permanent fund, for the promotion 
of education, in the several states, according to the princi¬ 
ples of justice and equity. 

5. As a matter of policy, education is the first great na¬ 
tional interest, to which a republican government ought to 
lend their support. Keep the great body of the people vir¬ 
tuous and well informed, and the penal laws on your statute 
book will, in a great measure, become obsolete and a dead 
letter; corporeal punishment will scarcely be known in our 
land. It is certainly safer and easier, by the seasonable ad¬ 
ministration of gentle preventives, to ward off a disease from 
the natural body, than to be compelled to eradicate the dis¬ 
order when introduced and seated in the system. 

6. So with the body politic, it is safer, wiser, and less ex¬ 
pensive, by good and wholesome regulations, to preserve the 
virtue and intelligence of the people, and thereby prevent 


2sr 


the introduction of crime and moral disease, than when they 
are once introduced, to he compelled to use harsh and severe 
measures to root them out. 

7. One hundred dollars, judiciously laid out in the edu¬ 
cation of youth, would go further in the maintenance and 
support of a free government, and in promoting the prospe¬ 
rity and happiness of the people, than thousands expended 
in enacting criminal codes, establishing courts of judicature, 
jails, and penitentiaries, without education. 

8 It is certainly better policy to take precautionary mea¬ 
sures to make and keep men honest, than to be compelled to 
use coercive measures to reclaim them when they shall have 
become rogues. The foYmer, if seasonably attended to, is easy; 
the latter is difficult, if not impracticable . In this country, 
government was not established for the benefit and aggran¬ 
dizement of the few, to the oppression and degradation of the 
many , as is the case in most other countries; but for the pro¬ 
motion of the prosperity and happiness of all. The govern¬ 
ment of this country, sir, must depend on, and be regulated 
by, public opinion, or the sentiments of the people. AVhilst, 
they are virtuous and enlightened, all is well; but should they 
become ignorant, and their moral sense depraved, all is gone. 

9. It would not be possible for the government of this 
country to establish, and successfully maintain, any course of 
measures, however wise and salutary, contrary to the senti¬ 
ments of the great body of the people: Hence, the necessity 
ot general information, and tho diffusion of correct moral 
sentiments, throughout all classes of the community. Here, 
the people are the legitimate source of all power and autho¬ 
rity: hence, the necessity of preserving the purity of that 
fountain, that the streams that flow therefrom, may be pure. 

10. “ Vox populi, vox J)ei is a true maxim, when applied 
to a virtuous and enlightened people, and when their expres¬ 
sion flows from a fair and deliberate consideration of the sub¬ 
ject matter, of such expression; but when applied to an igno¬ 
rant and depraved people, it is false and dangerous in the 
extreme. It may be said, sir, that the constitution is the will 
of the people fairly expressed, by which the government are 
bound to abide; be it so, but should the great body of the peo¬ 
ple become ignorant and corrupt, they might, by constitution- 

* The voice of the people is the voice of God-. 

* 24 







al provisions, deface the brightest features, and annul, antf 
revoke, the surest guarantees, of that sacred instrument; all r 
al), depends on the virtue and intelligence of the people. 

11. A free press, whilst regulated by the sentiments of a 
virtuous and enlightened community, it proves itself the her¬ 
ald of truth and correct information, is of vital importance; 
but, when, depending on the sentiments of an ignorant, cor¬ 
rupt, and vitiated people, it becomes licentious, it is of all 
curses the worst. 

12. Much has been said, on former occasions, with respect 
to the enemies of this country. Ignorance and vice, sir, are 
the natural enemies of this and every republic on earth; let 
these, with their mother idleness, together with their cousins 
german, profusion and extravagance be expelled your bor¬ 
ders, and fortify the minds of all jour citizens, with know¬ 
ledge and virtue: these are the legitimate fortifications of a 
republic. 

13. Knowledge and virtue, generally diffused, throughout 
all classes of community, will preserve, in its purity, the elec¬ 
tive franchise, a virtuous and enlightened people, uninflu¬ 
enced by any improper excitement, will uniformly select 
their wisest and best men for office. 

14. Much has been said and written by great and good 
men, with respect to the importance of the people of this 
country, forming a national character. The military and na¬ 
val character of this country, I trust, is now not a whit be¬ 
hind the chiefiesl: and a general dift’ueion of knowledge and 
virtue, would soon add, a moral and literary character to this 
nation, more uniform and glorious, than ever adorned any 
nation of ancient or modern date. Knowledge and virtue, 
maybe considered, sir, as the solid resources of the nation: 
they will provide for the payment of your public debt, and 
will sustain every expense compatible with the honor, dig¬ 
nity, prosperity, and happiness of the nation. 

i 5. These, sir, are treasures, with which millions , nay , with 
which all the riches of Potusi, and all the treasures of (xolcon - 
da, will not bear a comparison. Finally, sir, virtue and in¬ 
telligence, are the two great pillars, on which rests your re- 
publican edifice, the ark of your political safety, which was 
projected by superior wisdom, and erected by the purest pa¬ 
triotism; the materials of which were bought with the choicest 
blood that ever besprinkled the altar of liberty; and unless 



28 £ 

these pillars are constantly kept, well propped and guarded? 
your fair fabric, which stands without a parallel in the his¬ 
tory of nations, and the admiration of the civilized world, 
will totter—fall —and crumble to ruins. 

16. The importance of the subject is leading me too far. 
But, sir, if the view taken of the importance of education be 
correct, it is a subject on which this legislature ought to dwell, 
and consider. Although considering the present state of the 
national resources, it might not be wise and politic, to appro¬ 
priate a sum of money, for the purposes of education, I do 
contend, sir, that it would be ivise and expedient , in the way 
proposed, to lay the foundation for the establishment of a per¬ 
manent fund, for the promotion of so all-important an object. 

17. The representatives of this extensive and growing re¬ 
public will not, in considering this, or any other subject, be 
influenced by a narrow contracted policy, nor by local pre¬ 
judices, but inspired by generous, liberal , and noble senti¬ 
ments, will act with enlarged and extended views, and will 
lay a permanent foundation for the establishment of those li¬ 
beral and useful institutions, whose benefits are not limited 
by the confines of the present generation; but are calculated 
to promote the best interests, the prosperity and happiness 
of generations and ages for centuries long to come. 


SECTION II. 

EXTRACTS OF A LETTER FROM THE HON. JAMES MADISON, AD¬ 
DRESSED TO THE CHAIRMAN OF THE SHOOL COMMITTEE OF 
THE LEGISLATURE OF KENTUCKY, DATED 

Montpelier , August 4, 1822. 

1. The liberal appropriations made by the legislature of 
Kentucky, for a general system of education, cannot be too 
much applauded. A popular government without popular 
information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue to 
a farce or a tragedy, or perhaps both. Knowledge will ever 
govern ignorance; and a people who mean to be their ow r n 
governors, must arm themselves with the power which know¬ 
ledge gives. 

2. Throughout the civilized world, nations are courting the 
praise of fostering science and the useful arts; and are open¬ 
ing, their eyes to the principles and the blessings of represea- 







284 


tative government. The American people owe it to them¬ 
selves, and to the cause of free government, to prove by their 
establishments for the advancement and diffusion of know¬ 
ledge, that their political institutions which are attracting ob¬ 
servation from every quarter, are as favorable to the intellec¬ 
tual and moral improvement of man, as they are conformable 
to his individual and social rights. What spectacle can be 
more edifying or more seasonable, than that of liberty and 
learning, each leaning on- the other for their mutual and sur¬ 
est support? 

3. I know not that I can offer, on the occasion, any sug¬ 
gestion not likely to occur to the committee. Were I to ha¬ 
zard one, it would be in favor of adding to reading, writing, 
and arithmetic, to which the instruction of the poor is com¬ 
monly limited, some knowledge of geography, such as can ea¬ 
sily be conveyed by a globe and map, and a concise geographi¬ 
cal grammar. And how easily and quickly might a general 
idea even be conveyed of the solar system, by the t aid of a pla¬ 
netarium of the cheapest construction. 

4. No information seems better calculated to expand the 
mind and gratify curiosity, than what would thus be impart¬ 
ed. This is especially the case with what relates to the globe 
we inhabit, the nations among which it is divided, and the 
characters and customs which distinguish them. An acquaint¬ 
ance with foreign countries, in this mode, has a kindred ef¬ 
fect with that of seeing them as travellers: which never fails, 
in uncorrupted minds, to weaken local prejudices, and en¬ 
large the sphere of benevolent feelings. 

5. A knowledge of the globe, and its various inhabitants, 
however slight, might moreover create a taste for books of 
travels and voyages; out of which might grow a general taste 
for history, an inexhaustible fund of entertainment and in¬ 
struction. Any reading not of a vicious species, must be a 
good substitute for the amusements too aptto-fill up the leir- 
sure of the laboring classes. 


285 

SECTION IIL 

EXTRACTS FROM THE REMARKS OF THE HON. LEWIS CONDICT,, 

OF NEW JERSEY, ON PRESENTING A MEMORIAL FROM THAT 

SI ATE, PRAYING FOR ADDITIONAL DUTIES UPON IMPORTED 

LIQUORS, AND AN EXCISE UPON DOMESTIC SPIRIT. 

1. I have long entertained the opinion, that it would com¬ 
port with sound policy, and the best interests of our country, 
to levy and collect a much larger portion of our revenue up¬ 
on liquors consumed at home. And nothing prevented me 
nom calling the attention of Congress to this important sub- 
J e . c : dunng the last session, but the extreme reluctance 
which I felt, and which many of my friends here expressed, to 
the appointment of so many officers as would be required to 
carry a system of excise into effect. 

2. But, as the subject is distinctly presented to us in this 

memorial, by a class of men, 0 cvuna tv, ..^ 0 for t j • * 

ability in society, their intelligence, their morals and d P ev ^ 
non to their country. I deem it to be my ^ _ . 

serious attention of the House, and to give to the suBjecf 
deliberate examination, which it demands. 

3. It is important in a financial, but much more so in a 
moral view. I have not before me, at this moment, any do¬ 
cuments, showing the quantity consumed annually, nor is it 
of any importance for the purpose of my argument to ascer¬ 
tain, precisely , the number of gallons. A duty of 25 cents 
per gallon, on the spirituous liquors consumed in the United 
States, would yield to the Treasury an annual revenue, say, 
of six or eight millions of dollars. A sum which, if faithfully 
applied, would rapidly extinguish the national debt; or which 
would be sufficient, in a few years, if economically applied to 
interna! improvement, to connect the various sections of this, 
extensive empire, by navigable canals and good roads. 

4. And upon whom would this tax fall? Invariably upon 
the consumer of the liquor. He could never carry the intoxi^ 
eating draught to his mouth, without first “ casting his mite 
into the Treasury.” Should it be objected, that the imposi¬ 
tion of such a duty would lessen the consumption of the arti¬ 
cle, and that the Treasury would derive but a limited sum 
from this source—I reply, God grant it may be the case, and 
1 would then double the duty. 

5. What is the crying sin, the besetting and the besotting 
sin of our country, which sinks us in our own estimation and 






286 


tKe estimation of the civilized world? What is it, that de¬ 
grades and debases man, below the level of . th ® 
unfits him for the duties o f social and domestic life?-- VV hat is 
it, that carries strife and contention into every neighborhood. 
What is it, that invades the domestic circle—that banishes 
conjugal affection, and sunders every tie of e ride arm en • 
What entails poverty, and wretchedness,and infamy, upon the 
innocent, literally “ visiting the iniquities of the fathers ; upon 
the children, unto the third and fourth generation: — VV hat is 
it, that wrings the tear from the eye of disconsolate eau.y, 
and reddens its cheek with blushes?—What is tha_, " | K 1 
draws forth the midnight sigh, from the lonely and broken 
hearted mother, as she strives to cover her shiveimg in an , 
with her scanty rags, and stifles the cries of hungei, y ie 
charities of her neighbor? 

6. What inflicts disease, in its most painful and loathsome 

_ \yhatbl» tt ^ ““ a aefUl,IlS me human countenance, 

* Up image of the Creator from his creature?— 
^ XTI . .v, viiat sweeps “ as with the bee Ota of destruction,* 

more human victims to an untimely grave, than sword and 
pestilence combined?—What fills your poor houses with pau¬ 
pers, and your hospital with invalids?—What crowds your 
jails with criminals, and gives employment to the hangman? 
—It is intemperance, in the use of spirituous liquors. And, 
if it be in the power of government to restrain this deluge of 
moral evil, and diminish the sum of human misery; if, by levy¬ 
ing a tax, you snatch one victim from ruin, and rescue his 
helpless family from the depths of degradation, will you not 
exert the power? 

7. And what measure can so effectually aid the productive 
industry, and promote the real prosperity of the country, as 
that which shall lessen the consumption of ardent spirit? 

8. And who are the consumers? They are either the wine- 
bibbers, the men of wealth, who indulge in riot and luxury, 
and who can afford to pay; or, they are those miserable 
wretches, whom nakedness ^cannot shame—whose filth ren¬ 
ders the kennel in which they wallow more filthy—the volun¬ 
tary outcasts from society—and from whom society lias a 
right to extort this pittance, as the only punishment which 
can reach them for the outrages they have committed. 

9. There is no country where the means of intoxication are 
so abundant and so cheap as in our own, and the consequen¬ 
ces are daily more apparent and more alarming. The rich. 





287 


bounties of heaven—our precious bread stuffs and our deli¬ 
cious fruits, are converted into this fata! poison—disguised in 
a thousand forms, to allure us to destruction. It enters every 
door—the cup is presented to every lip. Whilst you tax the 
tea —the coffee —the sugar —and the salt —used by every mem¬ 
ber of every poor family, you suffer the ivhiskey — gin —and 
the brandy of the country—in their desolating progress, to 
blight its tairest prospects, “ as with blasting and mildew.” 

10. In every view which I can take of this question, 1 am led 
-to this conclusion: that there is no fairer, or more legitimate 
object of taxation, than spirituous liquors; and that sound po- 
licy , good morals , and the public happiness , require that the 
ann of the government should be felt in a tax upon the con¬ 
sumption of this article. 


SECTION IV. 

FEMALE PATRIOTISM.; OR DECLARATIONS OF INDEPENDENCE ON FOREIGN 
MERCHANDISE, AND OF WAll, AGAINST EXTRAVAGANCE, IGNORANCE, AND 
VICK. 

1. Convinced that the encouragement of Domestic Manu¬ 
factures is indispensable to the substantial interests, the per¬ 
manent welfare, and the real independence of the United 
States; and believing that a single act, will conduce more to¬ 
wards the accomplishment of those invaluable objects, than 
ten thousand inconclusive professions. 

2. Therefore, Resolved , That we, the undersigned, will, 
henceforward, confine our purchases, for the apparel of our¬ 
selves and families, to articles manufactured within the Unit¬ 
ed States. 

5. And not doubting, that these all important ends may be 
farther promoted—a check given to the destructive extra¬ 
vagance which reigns even in the very poorest of our cabins, 
and multitudes withheld, or converted from vice, by the en¬ 
couragement of learning, and by an extension of support to 
American manufactures, beyond the walls of our immediate 
households; 

4. Therefore, Resolved , That we will employ only such 
persons to spin, sew, knit and weave, as will clothe them¬ 
selves and families, exclusively in homespun; and appropri¬ 
ate a portion of the money arising from those labors, to the 
education of their children, or other relatives. 

[Signed by Catharine d. Morgan, and one hundred and 
twenty other ladies of Washington, Pa.] 





-288 

CHAPTER 5. 


'I1C TRACTS FROM POPE’S E5SAT 05 MAX, EF. IF. 

SECTION I. 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE Or MAN WITH RESPECT TO HAPlMNlSS. 

1. Who thus define it, say they more or less 
Than this, that happiness is happiness? 

Take nature’s path, and mad opinion’s leave; 

All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; 
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; 

There needs but thinking right and meaning well; 
And mourn our various portions as we please. 

Equal is common sense, and common ease. 

2. Remember, man, “ the universal cause 

“ Acts not by partial, but by gen’ral laws;*’ 

And makes what happiness we justly call 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 

3. Oh sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise. 

By mountains pil’d on mountains, to the skies? 
Heav’n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, 

And buries madmen in the heaps tf ey raise. 

Know, ali the good that individuals find, 

Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, 
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense. 

Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence. 

4. But health consists with temperance alone; 

And peace, oh virtue! peace is all thy own. 

The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; 

But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. 

Say, in pursuit of profit or delight, 

Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right? 
Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst. 

Which meets contempt, or which compassion first? 

5. Count all th* advantage prosp’rous vice attains, 

*Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains* 

And grant the bad what happiness they wou’d. 

One they must want, which is, to pass for good. 

Oh blind to truth, and God’s whole scheme below* 
Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue wo! 

Who sees and follows that great scheme the best. 
Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest* 


289 


6. Hut fools, the good alone, unhappy call, 

For ills or accidents that chance to all. 

Shall burning JEtna, if a sage requires. 

Forget to thunder, and recall her fires? 

On air or sea new motions be imprest, 

Oh, blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast? 

When the loose mountain trembles from on high. 
Shall gravitation cease, if you go by? 

Or some old temple nodding to its fall. 

For Chartres* head reserve the hanging wall? 

7. “ But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed.” 
What t! en? Is the reward of virtue bread? 

That, vice may merit, *tis the price of toil; 

'The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil, 

The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main, 
Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain, 
Honor and shame from no condition rise; 

Act well your part there all the honor lies. 

8. Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; 
The rest is all but leather or prunella. 

A wit’s a feather, and a chief a rod. 

An honest maids the noblest work of God. 

One self approving hour whole years outweighs 
Of stupid st.i rers, and of loud huzzas. 

9. Know then this truth (enough for man to know) 
“ Virtue alone is happiness below.” 

The only point where human bliss stands still, 
And tastes the good without the fall to ill; 

Where .only merit constant pay receives, 

Is blest in what it takes, and what it«gives. 


SECTION II. 

GENERAL KNOWLEDGE EXTERMINATES VICE AND DESPOTISM. 

I. Our states are united—let parricide cease— 

We conquer’d in war and are modest in peace; 

The union our centre, each fair sister-state 
Imparts in obtaining new lustre and weight. 

The system republican—(many in one)— 

What planet, not lawless, would jostle the sun; 

When each star’s connection secures its own form 
Uncon troll’d by comets, or anarchy’s storm! 

2 ? 







290 


2. To know is to prize a free empire like ours, 

Extoll’d audbelov’d for its blessings ami pow’rs; 

For th* aim of the foil ad ere who brought it to pass. 

Was to fix the most good for the people in mass! 

Let tyrants, to popular liberty foes, 

Deem man a brute creature, sway’d only by blows* 

But let us, rare freemen, distinguish our kind 
By justice, good order, and well cultur’d mind. 

3 There ne’er yet existed sovig’rous a race. 

To vindicate freedom and tyrants to chace; 

Because in no nation or any known shore 
So much common sense was e’er cultur’d i r fore. 

’Tis ignorance mainly binds people in chains: 

’Tis this too the empire of folly maintains: 

Vice shrinks from instruction, like ghost from the light: 
And despots shun noontide and covet the night. 

4. The soul of our nation is patriot, fire; 

This hallows the freedom we bled to acquire; 

This renders bold freemen undaunted in fights,^ 

Urged on by the impulse of knowledge and rights. 

5. Swear, then,by the warning of millions in chains! 

By iron oppiession, that Europe sustains! 

By the blood-shed of millions —pour’d out that a few 
May riot—as tyrants forever will do; 

►Swear, then, by the wreaths that encompass vour head 
When Burgoyne submitted and Cornwallis fled; 

When giants, late hostile, from ocean emerg’d 
M ho caret' forth to bind you were conquer*! or scourg'd 
Swear, then, by the causes efficient and grand. 

That renderi<I you victors on ocean and land— 

'1 bat GENERAL KNOWLEDGE ami POPULAR LIGHTS 

Shall mark and exalt both our freemen and rights. 

o 


SECTION III. 

KNOWLEDGE, THE SOUL OF FREEDOM. 

1. Postpone, O ye sages, all meaner debates — 

Convinced that ’tis light must establish our States; 
Dispense and diffuse it—gild empire like day. 
Convinced that with freemen f uii knowledge is suayi 
’Tis lucid as sunshine, that ev’ry free rat e 
Keen leaders of party plunge into disgrace; 



291 


Always more intent by its ladder to rise, 

Than render the multitude happy or wise. 

2. So man a machine, and the tool of a few, 

Stands ignorant, ready foul mischief to do; 

In peace, by rude clamor to barter coarse aid'—* 

In war to make havoc a popular trade. 

Man’s general ignorance, old as the flood, 

For ages on ages has steep’d him in blood: 

Sesostris—or Ninos—Pul—Persian or Mede, 

In turn domineer'd for whole u nions to blee<J. 

3. See tyrants diversified, ravage the ball; 

A Cyrus Assyria—a Caesar the Gaul: 

Mahomet or Gengis—Arabian or Hun, 

Spur ignorance blindfold o’er nations undone. 

The Turk or the Tartar—the Vandal or Jew, 

Kept midnight for millions and sunshine for few: 

By dark public mind was society slain 

From man hunting Nimrod to fierce Tamerlane. 

4. The priests of old Egypt, from Tauis to Thin, 
Monopoliz’d diet, law, physic, and sin; 

No wonder the few had despotic control, 

Engrossing all knowledge of body and soul. 

Gross ignorant peasants rear’d idols in throng; 

How coo Id they have rights, who were tutor’d in wrong? 
But public misculture such danger imparts, 

It ruined that wonderful cradle of arts, 

5. Alexander the great, that ambition had craz’d; 

Who noble Tyre sack’d, and Persepolis raz’d; 

Yet did not act Jupiter over mankind, 

Till Greece had been stripp’d of her noble free mind. 
Mark single bright Athens, ere liberty had ceas’d, 

" O'ermatch by her mind all the power of the east! 

Her tyrant expell’d—see the light of the wise, 

Lend basis to grandeur that tower’d to the skies. 

6. Would Carthage have met her deplorable doom; 
Bruis’d rival and massacred victim of Rome; 

If knowledge, man’s rights, had to Carthage unroll’d — 
Instead of stern Oligarchs worshipping gold? 
Magnificent Rome fell extinct in her turn; 

But ne’er while her lights were permitted to burn: 
While eagles of knowledge bright Pandects unfurl’d, 
That queen of tire cities still govern’d the world. 


292 


r. Let tyrants detested fear popular thought, 

Deem brass cannon reason, and intellect nought; 

But ye that man’s rank have restor’d to its source, 

Will cherish high mind as invincible force. 

Go Stamp with sound doctrine from Oilcans to Maine, 
The precious crude ore that our precincts contain! 
Grave knowledge on gem that no kingdom can boast, 
The soul energetic of liberty's host! 

8. All freemen instructed, the agents of all, 

Will edify empire that never can fall! 

Our flags o’er the lamps of bright science unfurl’d. 

The roil of no tyrant can sway the new world. 


SECTION IV. 

THE WILDERNESS.-BY S. OSBORN. 

d. There is a wilderness more dark 

Than groves of fir on Huron’s shore; 

And in that cheerless region hark 

What serpents hiss, what monsters roar 1 . 

2. It is not in the untrodden Isles 

Of vast Superior’s stormy lake, 

Where social comfort never smiles, 

Nor sunbeams pierce the tangled brake; 
Nor is it in the deepest shade 
01 India’s tvger-haunted wood;^. 

' Nor western forests, unsurvey’d. 

Where crouching panthers lurk for blood. 

3. ’Tis in the dark uncultur’d soul, 

By education unrefin’d, 

(Where hissing malice—vices foul, 

And all the hateful passions prowl!)— 

The frightful wilderness of mind! 


SECTION V. 

HATPINESS.-4IY ANN CANDLER, A SUFFOLK COTTAGER. 

1. Delusive phantom, light as air. 

Whose shadow we pursue, 

Each rising morn with anxious care, 

We still the chace pursue, 




V 





293 


Elate with hope we persevere, 

Still flattered with success; 

Yet unforeseen events defer 
Our visionary bliss. 

2. Our fruitless toil augments our pain, 

Our hopes flit swiftly by; 

We sigh, despairing to obtain 
The transitory joy. 

Can gold untainted pleasure give? 

Can we depend on power? 

Can fame the sick’ning heart relieve, 
Or bring one happy hour? 

3. Will titles, birth, or pompous shows. 

Youth, beauty, wit combin’d 
Will these, 1 ask, avert the woes 
Entail’d on human kind? 

Yet still our wish we may effect, 
Substantial blessings know: 

What from the shadow we expect. 
The substance will bestow. 

4. With wisdom dwells our dearest bliss, 

Abounding with increase; 

“ Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
And all her paths are peace.” 

Lay hold on her, and you’ll possess 
The treasure you have sought; 

Her price beyond the ruby is. 

Or gold from Ophir brought. 


SECTION YI. 

THE HERMIT’S WAY TO BE HAPPY. 

1. An old hermit there was and he liv’d in a cave. 

Who the way to be happy ’twas said he could pave; 
Wanting sorely to learn it, I went to his cell, 

And no sooner was there than the hermit said ‘ Well, 

I perceive, by your looks, you ail something, young man, 
Tell me, then, all your wants! I’ll befriend if I can,’ 

* Why, dear Hermit,’ I answered, ‘ you guess very right, 
And I’ll tell you the cause of this visit to night. 

* 25 




294 

% The true Wa) v to be happy, I hear you can teach, 

Which I want much to learn, so entreat you to preach;' 
Or, if simple, T beg you to write me the plan 
In plain, legible characters, short as you can/ 

Upon this, the old Hermit then took up his pen. 

Wrote these lines and said “read them again and again,* 
“ It is being, and doing , and having, that make 
All the pleasures and pains of which mortals partake: 
Now to be what God pleases, to do a man’s best, 

And to have a good heart, is the way to be blest.” 


SECTION VII. 

RAVAGES - OF DISSIPATION. 

1. Not the jaws ofCharybdis nor the hoarse rocks of Scylla; 
Not all the fell dangers that lurk in the deep, 

Not the earthquake’s deep yawn,.nor the volcano’s lava. 
Not the pestilence’s breath, or the hurricane’s sweep; 
Not all the dread monsters that live thro’ creation 
Have caused such destruction, such mis’ry and wo, 
As from that arch pest of mankind, Dissipation, 
Through the civilized world incessantly flow. 

3. *Tis a vortex insatiate on w hose giddy bosom 
The victim is whirl’d till his senses are gone. 

Till, lost to a?l shame and the dictates of reason, 

He lends not one effort to ever return. 

3. Ah! view on its surface the ruins of genius, 

The wreck of a scholar, the Christian and friend! 

The learning, the wit, the graces that charm’d us. 

In the mind drowning bowl meet a premature end. 

4-. Ah! hear, drown’d in tears, the disconsolate mother, 
Lament the lost state of a favorite son, 

Hear the wife and the child, the sister and brother 
Mnnrn.a>husband, a father* a brother undone. 



APPENDIX. 


I*REE CIRCULATING LIBRARIES. 

In the hope that the impulse of a disposition to “ do good ” may influ¬ 
ence some patron of knowledge, or generous youth, in every neighborhood 
where these »heets may be circulated, to v< lunteer his exertions for the 
institution of a Free Library and Reading < Society , I annex the following 
form of a constitution, which such friends to society are earnestly desired 
to prepare and present for subscription, to citizens and young people, as 
speedily and generally as possible: 

THE CONSTITUTION 

Of the Juvenile Society of - for the Acquisition r 

of Knowledge. 

We, the subscribers, being convinced that it is indispensably necessary 
for our welfare and happiness, that we improve our minds by the acquire¬ 
ment of useful knowledge, do hereby agree to associate as a Library and 
Reading Society, and conform to the following articles of regulation; 
which may, at any time, be altered or amended, by agreement of two- 
thirds of the members of the society, who are permitted to vote. 

1 The society may be composed of young persons of both sexes, be¬ 
tween ten and twenty one years of age; who are equally admitted to the 
benefits of this institution, (except that those who are under sixteen years 
of age are not permitted to vote) by signing these articles, and complying 
with their regulations. The elder members to be denominated senior, and 
the younger, junior members 

2. Persons over twenty-one years of age, may also be admitted, and 
sh.ilt be entitled to ail the privileges of senior members, by contributing 
three dollars, or more, at ihe time of their admission, and one dollar an¬ 
nual ly Afterwards. 

The society shall meet on the first Monday in the month of 
at o’clock, e m. and choose seven trustees, all of whom shall 
be rqore than twenty-one years of age. The trustees shall appoint a li¬ 
brarian from among themselves, or the other senior members, and fill va^ 
cancies in the board, pro tempore, at each meeting, whenever they occur, 
from'non-attendance or otherwise; or if there should not a sufficient num¬ 
ber be present for that purpose, four of the board shall be competent to 
transact business. 

T The librarian shall act as chairman, at the meetings of the society or 
of rhe trustees, and have a casting vote. He shall act as treasurer and 
secretary. He shall number the books, and keep a record of all that are 
drawn and returned. He shall purchase for the library only such books as 
are authorised by the trustees- He shail keep an account of all the books, 
given or lent to the society, and of-receipts and expenditures He is autho¬ 
rized to.loan books to persons who.are.not members, at one dollar per year^ 





296 


c.r four cents per week, or without any charge to those who shall obtain the 
certified consent of two of the trustees He shall keep a distinct account 
of fines collected on the books lent to the society, which shall be paid to 
the owners. On the first Mondays in March and September, he shall 
exhibit notices on the doors of churches, school houses, or at such other 
places as he may deem proper, inviting all the youth to join th^e society, 
who are entitled to the privilege, as specified in the first articled When¬ 
ever the librarian shall deem it expedient, he is authorized to require de¬ 
posits, or orders from responsible persons, to be left by any person to 
whom he shall deliver books 

5 All the books of the library shall be returned every wee%, at, or be¬ 
fore o’clock, on p m. or on the first Monday of every month; 

the penalty for the neglect of which, shall be six cents on each book, and 
one cent per day until returned; or if not returned vvithm one ntonth after 
the time aforesaid, to be paid for, if required by the trustees 

6. It shall be the duty of the trustees, to decide what books shall be 

admitted, whether offered as donations, or in payment for subscriptions, 
orient; to examine the books returned at each meeting, and impose rea¬ 
sonable fines on such as are damaged by ill usage; and, if materially in¬ 
jured, to be paid for, at the appraisal of the trustees. Books which are 
received as donations, and decided to be inadmissible, shall be exchanged 
by the trustees, or sold at auction. v 

7. Those who neglect to pay fines, or other dues to the society, within 
one month after incurred, shall be prohibited the use of the library until 
paid. 

8. The library shall be open, for the delivery of books, every Saturday, 
from one to five o’clock, for females, and from five to nine o’clock, v M. 
for males: and books may be returned and exchanged, at all other times, 
when convenient to the librarian. 

9 The first choice of books, at each meeting, shall belong to theyiatrons 
and members of the society who shall have subscribed, and paid, the great¬ 
est amount for the benefit of the institution, in gradation to those who 
shall have paid the least And to others, the precedence shall belong to 
the oldest, in gradation to the youngest. 

10 A reading meeting is appointed to be held every Thursday evening, 
from six to eight o’clock; for which purpose, any senior member .of the 
society may prepare essays, or select and designate instructive and inter¬ 
esting articles from books, for the consideration of the librarian, or such 
of the trustees as he may nominate, who shall decide upon the pieces to 
be read at each meeting No person to read more than two pages at once. 

We hereby mutually recommend it to each other, to contribute twenty- 
five cents, quarterly, if possible, every year, for the purchase of new books 
for the library; and severally promise to pay to the librarian, the amount, 
or its value in such books as shall be accepted by the trustees, set respec¬ 
tively against our names. 


Contents. 

PART FIRST. 

Chapter. 1. Essays oil the general Diffusion of Knowledge. 

Page. 


Sect. 1. Necessity and advantages of knowledge, 5 

2 New plan for the dissemination, of knowledge, 11 

3 A serious address to the rising generation of the IT. S. 14 

Chap. 2. Essays on the Use of intoxicating Liquors. 
Sect. 1. Public calamities produced by intemperance, 16 
2 Project of taxing vice for the support of virtue, 22 

6 The habitual use of spiritu’s liquors a violation of duty, 25 

4 Speed/of the Little Turtle, an Indian Chief, 27 

Chap. 3. Essays on Political and Domestic Economy. 
Sect. i. Observations on moral reformation, &c. 29 

2 Observations on fashion, causes of pauperism, war, &c. 33 

PART SECOND. 

Chap. 1. Selections from the Old Testament, 39 

Chap. 2. Extracts from the wisdom of Jesus, 42 

Chap. 3. Selections from the New Testament. 

Sect. 1. Instructions of Jesus Christ, 4S 

2 Instructions of Paul the Apostle, 47 

3 Extracts from the Epistles of James, Peter and John , 43 

PART THIRD. 

Chap. 1. Abridgement of the life if precepts of Confucius, 51 


Chap. 2. Abridgt. of the life and moral discourses of Socrates • 
Sect. 1. Character of Socrates, 56 

2 Dialogue between Socrates and Glauco, on ambition, 60 

3 Discourse of Socrates on the beneficence of God, 62 

4 Accusation, defence, condemnation Scdeath of Socrtes, 64 

5 Discourses of Socrates on filial and fraternal affection, 66 

6 Dialogue between Socrates &Critobulus,on friendship, 69 

Chap. 3. Abridgement of Seneca's Morals. 

Sect. 1. Character, condemnation and death of Seneca, 70 

2 Abridgement ot Seneca’s discourse on beneficence, 72 

Abridgement of Seneca's Treatise on a happy Life. 

3 On a happy life, and wherein it consists, 73 





25S 


4 Human happiness is founded upon wisdom and virtue, 75. 

5 There can be no happiness without virtue, 76 ' 1 

6 Philosophy is the guide of life, 78 

7 No felicity like peace of conscience, 82 

8 Contemplation of Providence; remedy of misfortunes, 83 

9 Of levity of mind and other impediments, ike. 84 

10 A sensual life is a miserable life, 80 

11 Avarice and ambition are insatiable and restless, 88 

12 The blessings of temperance and moderation, 89 

13 Constancy of mind makes a man happy, ike. 90 j 

14 Our happiness depends on our choice of company, 91 

15 The blessings of friendship, 92 j 

16 He that would be happy must take an account o/time, 93 

17 Happy is the man that may choose his own business, 94 

18 On immoderate sorrow for the death of friends,, 95 

19 Mediocrity the best state of fortune, 96 

•Abridgement of Seneca's treatise on linger. 

20 Anger described, * 97 

21 Anger is a short madness, &c. 98 

22 Anger is neither warrantable nor useful, 100 

23 Advice in cases of contumely and revenge, 103 

PART FOURTH. 


Chap. 1 . Abridgement of the law of M'aturc. 
Sec. 1 The law of nature defined, ike, 

2 Characters of the law of nature, 

3 Principles of the law of nature, &c. 

4 Of the basis of morality; of good; of evil, ike. 

5 Of private virtues; of know ledge, temperance, ike. 

6 Of domestic virtues, 

7 Of the social virtues; of justice, charity, See. 

Chai*. 2 . Abridgement of the economy of human life. 
Sec. 1 . Duties that relate to man as* an individual, 

2 The Passions; joy and grief, anger, pity, 

3 'Woman, 

4 Duties of children and brothers, 

5 Wise and ignorant, rich and poor, masters, ike. 

6 Social duties; benevolence, justice, charity, &c. 

7 Man considered in general, 


107 

108 11 

110 
111 
112 
116 
118 


123 

126 

128 

129 


130 

131 
134 


PART FIFTH. 


Chap. 1 . Abridg't of Penn's Reflections and Maxims 
relating to the conduct of Human Lift: and his Ad¬ 
vice to his Children K ' 137 




299 


Chap. 2. Jlbridg't of Paleifs Moral Philosophy . 

Sect. 1. Definition and use of the science, 147 

2 Human happiness, 143 

3 Virtue, 153 

4 Moral obligation. The will of God, 154 

The divine benevolence, 156 

6 Utility. The necessit y of general rules. Of right, 158 

7 Promises: contracts of sale: of lending of money, 159 

8 Lies; revenge; duelling; slander; seduction, 161 

9 Of the duty of parents. Education, 163 

Chap* 3. Jibvid’t of Knigge’s Practical Philosophy. 
Sect. 1 . General rules for our conversation with men, 165 

2 On the conversation wdth ourselves, 168 

3 On the Conversation with people of different tempers, 169 

4 On the conversation with people of a different age, in 

5 On the conversation between parents and children, 173 

6 On conversation between masters and servants, 174 

7 Beneficence and gratitude: Instructors and pupils, 176 

8 On our conduct towards others in peculiar situations, 177 

9 Principal causes of the want of domestic pleasures, 179 

10 On candor and tolerance in conversation, 181 

PART SIXTH. 


Chap- 1 . Selections from the Life of Franklin. 

Sect. 1. His early diligence in improving his mind, &(\ 193 

2 11 is temperance and frugality while a journeyman, Sec, 198 

3 He fesolves on the inflexible practice of truth, Sec. 191 
Chap. 2. Selections from the continuation of the Life of 

Franklin , written bv himself. 

| Sect. I.*Letters from Abel James, Sec. to Dr. Franklin, 195 

2 Continuation. His religious principles, Sec 195 

3 His project of arriving at Moral perfection, See. 198 

4 His project of raising a united party to virtue. See. 207 

Chap. 3. Jtbridg’t of Cicero’s Discourse on Old Jige. 

I Sect. 1. A well spent life essential to a happy old age, 212 
2 Moderation in exercise and diet: science, Sec. 216 


Chap. 4. Dialogues concerning Self-denial , Virtue , Pleasure . 
Sect. 1. Reasonable self-denial, necessary to happiness, 220 
2 Government of the passions; doing good to others, Sec. 224 
Chap. 5. Franklin’s Way to Wealth. 

Sect. 1. Industry: early rising: vigilance, 

2 Frugality, calamities of pride, extravagance, Sec. 


229 

232 











3 Advice to a young tradesman, * f ‘ 235 

4 The way to make money plenty in every man’s pocket, 238 j 
Chap. 6 . Selections from the Moral Essays and Letters of 

Dr. Franklin . 

Sect. 1 . The handsome and deformed leg. 

2 The art of procuring pleasant dreams, . 24U' 

3 The waste of life, n f 24 

4 On luxury, idleness, and industry, ^ 24 

5 Letter to George Whitefield, on practical religion, 24<| 

G Letter to his sister, with a present of a spinning wheel, 249 
7 To the same, on the value of female industry. «c. 230 

PART SEVENTH. 


Chap. 1 . Selections from Washington's farewel ^ jdddress , | 
Sec. 1 . National union and mutual friendship, 253; 

2 Party spirit; religion and morality, &e. v 25«j 

Chap. 2. Declaration of Independence. 25^jl 

Chap. 3. Miscellaneous articles on educationf &c. 


Sec. 1 . Sunday schools: education of the poor, &c. 261 

2 Address of l)r. Child to an assemblage of schools, 2 G® 

3 The spectator, on the benefit of labor and exercisk, 26® 

4 The spectator, on the advantages of temperance, 

5 Belknap’s address to the people of N. Hampshire, 272 :j 

G Dialogue on female education, , 276 

Chap. 4. National education, temperance, l?t. 


Sec. 1. Speech of Mr. White, in Congress, on education, 279 

2 Extracts from Mr.Madison’s letter on education, 283 

3 Mr. Condict’s remarks in favor of taxing spirits, 

4 Female society for promoting domestic manufactures, 2S£ 


Chap. 5. Foetry. 

Sec. 1. Extracts from Pope’s essay on man, 288 

2 General knowledge, the basis of virtue and liberty , 1 28# 

3 Knowledge the soul of freedom, 

4 The Wilderness, 292 

5 Happiness; by a young lady, ib. 

6 The hermit’s way to be happy, ; 

7 Ravages of dissipation. 294 


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